


Something Resembling a Possibility

by AWriting



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A little bit of angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes Feels, But mostly fluff, Clint has a sexuality crisis, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Light Dom/sub, Like super light, Lucky the pizza dog - Freeform, M/M, Minor Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, Minor Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Past Rape/Non-con, Possessive Bucky, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sugar Daddy!Bucky, Top Bucky Barnes, and SMUT, and quite a bit of it, blink and you miss it - Freeform, human disaster Clint, mentions of torture, non-explicit in either case, sort of, starting in chapter 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:04:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8496490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWriting/pseuds/AWriting
Summary: Clint's new roommate, Steve, has a brother who is hot and rich. Not that Clint noticed the first part cause he's definitely straight. Definitely.Based on this post





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this post](http://luninosity.tumblr.com/post/131986762509/overhead-while-walking-to-the-parking-lot-on)
> 
> I have no update schedule decided for this. The whole fic is planned, but not written so it'll pretty much get posted as fast as it's written. That could be once a week, once a month, or once a year (probably/hopefully not once a year).  
> Hope you like dorks falling in love.

The big lecture hall had cleared out, leaving only Clint and Natasha alphabetizing quizzes for easier grading later. Even the professor they were TA-ing for had ditched the second the last student had handed over her paper. Dr. Fury was great, but preoccupied with his newest book on Russian spy history.

Natasha had been eyeing Clint for a few minutes, having noticed his general twitchiness and the way he kept opening his mouth to say something only to close it again and resume his work.

Once they were done and had split the stack in half, 103 for Clint and 104 for Natasha, she turned to him.

"All right, spit it out," she said.

"I do not know to what you are referring," Clint responded, stuffing the papers in his bag and making for the door quickly.

He knew telling Natasha would be good in the long run; she always gave great advice. But first they'd have to get past the teasing and laughing. And goddammit, it was embarrassing. And he did enough embarrassing things already. Why add another thing to the list when he could just pretend it wasn't real?

Unfortunately, Natasha was a stubborn person and followed closely at his heels. "I'm not dumb," she said. "You've been debating telling me something since the beginning of class. Just do it."

Clint made a face, opened his mouth and closed it again, and kept walking.

"Barton, I swear to god..."

"Okay, okay," Clint interrupted. He knew that now she had it in her head that he was keeping something from her, she wouldn't let it go. "So, you know how I just moved in to that new apartment with Steve..."

"I'm aware," she replied, impatience obvious in her tone of voice and raised eyebrow. "I seem to recall Sam and I helping you two move in."

"Right. Uh, did you ever meet Steve's brother while you were over there? Long brown hair? Named Bucky?"

"I think I would remember meeting someone named Bucky."

"Well, he's not really Steve's brother. Bucky's parents were... are? Steve's foster parents after his mom died." Clint hesitated again. "Not the point. Anyway, Bucky's a little bit older than us. Maybe 30 or so? And he's got some job where he makes a shit ton. I don't know what he does; I just know that he's loaded."

"I'm going to need for this story to go double time," Natasha interjected. They had stopped on the sidewalk about a hundred feet from the door of the building they had just exited, where they would be splitting off to go separate ways. "I have to meet with Dr. Coulson in 10 minutes."

"I'm getting to it, okay? Don't rush me." Clint dragged a hand through his hair, making the already messy poof on top of his head even worse. "So when we were moving in, and he found out neither Steve and I had a TV for the apartment, he bought us one. Which, I figured, was fine. I would just let Steve take it when we moved out."

Clint blew out a heavy breath. "But then, he kept buying things for us. For the apartment. And it wasn't just communal stuff. He bought me a lamp and a box spring when he realized I just slept with my mattress on the ground. He was gonna buy me a bed frame too, but I think Steve talked him out of it."

Natasha made a "get on with it" hand motion in the air, pointedly looking at her phone to check the time. They both knew Coulson wouldn't care if she was a few minutes late. This is just how Natasha was.

"And then they were going to the bookstore... I think he pays for Steve's school too. Or at least part of it. And they invited me along, so, I figured, why not? I love the bookstore. But before I knew what was happening, he was buying some books I had picked out too. And he's been hanging out a lot, even when Steve's not around. And it was just... oh god, this sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud. It just didn't seem... innocent? Like, I think he might be hitting on me?"

"Is that it?" Natasha laughed. "Is he hot?"

"I mean, I guess? I don't know. I guess he is. He's not... bad looking."

"I don't understand the problem," Natasha said seriously, repositioning her book bag on her shoulder and swatting a fly away. "Is he being creepy? I mean, you've been hit on by guys before and didn't have any problem politely refusing and telling them you're straight."

"No! He's not creepy at all. He's pretty cool. Like he's funny and pretty chill and he wears these really nice suits most of the time. And I think it's awesome the way he's helping Steve out, y'know, paying for art school and shit. And I guess he's like a math whiz or whatever cause he's got this fancy financial gig...."

"Oh my god," Natasha gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she choked back a laugh.

"What? What happened?"

"You like him!" She said. Or squealed, more accurately.

"What? No. I'm not..." Clint sputtered. "I don't like him. I'm not gay so obviously..."

"You totally like him!" Natasha insisted and punched him in the arm. "You're blushing and rambling like you do when you like someone. I know you better than you know yourself, Clinton Francis Barton, and you totally like him."

"But I'm not gay, Tasha!"

"Maybe not, but you're totally gay for him." She crossed her arms and smirked triumphantly.

"I don't..." Clint dragged both hands through his hair now and began pacing. "I mean, yeah, he's really cool, but I've never been attracted to a dude before. I mean, there's nothing wrong with it, but I'm 25! Wouldn't I know by now if I was gay? Or bi? Or whatever?"

"Sometimes it's just the person, Clint," Natasha said, her voice turning soft and reassuring in a way it rarely did. "Being attracted to Bucky doesn't change who you are. And you don't have to do anything about the attraction. You don't have to respond to him hitting on you if you don't want to."

"But..." Clint worried his bottom lip for a moment, eyebrows turned inward in uncertainty. "What if I do want to?"

"I don't think you have to decide right now." Natasha patted his arm comfortingly. He must look really torn up about this because she was rarely this nice to him. "Maybe just see what happens. Don't push anything to happen but don't, like, push it away either, you know?"

"Yeah, I..." Clint started, looking past her in thought for a moment at a group of undergrads playing frisbee in the cool, early autumn air.  After a moment, he smiled and looked back at her. "Thanks, Tasha. I guess that's what I'll do."

She patted his arm again. "Call me if you have any more crises, okay?"

Then she turned quickly, her red hair whipping out behind her as she strutted towards the history building.

Clint took a deep breath and watched as the frisbee went sailing into a tree and got stuck there. Tasha had given him good advice. He should just let it happen. Too bad that good advice did little to quiet the loud voices in his brain or the near constant image in his mind of Bucky leaning back against their couch watching a football game, beer in hand and Adam's apple bobbing as he drank.

Shaking his head, Clint turned away from the direction Natasha had disappeared in and headed towards the subway station. He needed a nap.

 

When he got home, Peggy and Steve were in the kitchen, playfully arguing over lunch.

"Hey," Steve said. "Want some pasta? We made too much."

"Nah," he replied, dropping his book bag on to the couch. "I'm gonna nap and then gotta go pick up my laptop at the repair store."

"Oh, it’s still acting up, is it?" Peggy asked, her full red lips turning down. Clint will never fully understand how skinny, little Steve Rogers snagged a woman like Peggy, but they definitely had something special.

Clint snorted. "Always. When does it ever not act up? I think it's actively trying to prevent me from finishing my thesis at this point."

"Sucks," Steve said. His face turned grumpy before he continued, "Just don't tell Bucky 'cause he'll try to buy you a new one no matter how many times you say no."

At Clint's questioning look, Peggy explained, "Bucky tried to buy Steve a new drawing tablet because Steve's has been giving him trouble. They've been arguing about it for a few days now."

"It's like he thinks I can't do anything on my own," Steve cried belligerently.

"Yes, dear," Peggy said, clearly indulging an argument she's heard multiple times already. "But you know that's how Bucky shows affection. Especially since being discharged."

"Discharged?" Clint asked without even thinking about it.

"Buck was in the army," Steve explained, as if Clint couldn't have deduced that much for himself. Steve had other things on his mind, though. "He just still treats me like a kid and it drives me crazy."

Peggy responded to him, but Clint decided it was time for that nap he had planned before he fell any farther down the Bucky Barnes rabbit hole.

"I'll see you guys later." He said as he retreated, not entirely sure either of them were paying attention enough to hear him.

Despite having all the best intentions for taking a long, restful nap, Clint didn’t sleep much. He thought through his conversation with Natasha again. He thought through every conversation he’d had with Bucky. He thought about Peggy saying Bucky shows affection by buying things for people. He thought about the deplorable state of his own finances and dreamed of one day having enough money to buy all the people he cared about all the things they needed without bankrupting himself.

Overall, he did not do a very good job of taking Natasha’s advice and letting it go for a while. But Clint rarely acted in his own self-interest so it really wasn’t that surprising.

What continuously confused him about the whole situation was, if he was right and Bucky had been hitting on him, _why?_ Clint was a broke graduate student with a laughable amount of debt, mediocre time management skills, and a penchant for terrible food.

Bucky, in contrast was… well, he was classy, for lack of a better word. He had a real job. He made an adult salary. He probably ate at fancy restaurants on the regular.

There was absolutely no reason he should be interested in Clint. They were on opposite sides of the social spectrum. He knew that Bucky had offered to put Steve up in a nicer apartment too. And to pay all the bills so Steve wouldn’t need a roommate. Steve had said thanks, but no thanks (‘cause he was Steve) and went looking for a roommate. Natasha’s friend (who was, of course, desperately in love with her as most people who met her were), Sam, had introduced them after Natasha mentioned Clint was looking to get away from his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad roommate (a pretentious mythology grad student from Norway or some shit named _Loki,_ of all things).

The apartment was actually a downgrade technically. Smaller, older, and generally not as well maintained as his old one. But it was cheaper, the company was better, and it was closer to campus. You win some, you lose some. All in all, Clint was very happy that he’d agreed to move in with Steve.

But now there was Bucky.

Eventually, Clint gave up on napping and went to get his laptop. The guy at the shop told him that he doubted he’d be able to revive the laptop again and that Clint should start looking for a new one. Clint almost laughed in his face.

As if Clint had enough money lying around to get a new laptop. When that one really did crap out on him for good, he’d probably end up buying a cheap refurbished one from craigslist or some such. Or he’d have to make do with the computers in the library and actually writing things down on paper like some barbarian when he wasn’t there. He backed all his work up to multiple places constantly so he wasn’t really worried about losing any of the hard work he’d already put into his thesis, but he just could not afford a new computer right then.

Once again, there were people in the kitchen when he got home. Steve was speaking when he opened the door, but before he could close it and drop his keys in the bowl beside it, he heard a deeper, quieter voice respond.

“Clint? Is that you?” Steve called from the kitchen just as Clint stepped far enough in to be in view of the other two. “What’d they say about your machine?”

Clint pulled the machine in question out of his bag and set it carefully on the table. There was duct tape keeping the battery in place and a bunch of deep scratches on one corner from when Clint dropped it on concrete. “Still alive, but apparently on the last of its nine.”

Clint casually made eye contact with Bucky and greeted him with a small smile and a head nod. Bucky responded in kind, and Clint had to fight not to roll his eyes at himself with the way his stomach erupted in butterflies at the small gesture.

He was pretty sure he was actually losing his mind at this point.

“You’re lucky,” Steve said, interrupting his moment. “You’ve put that thing through hell it looks like.”

“It’s just old,” Clint protested. “This thing has lived a good, long life. I’m actually kind of surprised it lasted as long as it did. I just need it to hold out a little longer. Maybe until my loans from next semester come through.”

“I could get you one of the new Stark laptops, if you wanted,” Bucky spoke up from where he was leaning against the counter.

“As in the ones that aren’t supposed to be released until next year?” Clint asked. His eyes had flown back to Bucky as soon as he began speaking, as if they had just been waiting for a reason to drink him in. He was still in his suit from the work day, fitted black with white pinstripe, crisp white shirt, and a blue paisley tie. Tall and muscular, all lean with defined angles. He looked perfect.

Comparatively, Clint was wearing jeans with holes in them (and not for fashion), and a white t-shirt with holes in it, and a purple sweater that mercifully had no holes in it, but there was a large mustard stain on the hood. As long as the hood was down, you couldn’t see it so Clint didn’t think it was a big deal. Except for when he was standing next to Bucky Barnes. Now he felt downright ratty.

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah. They’ve already given almost finalized prototypes out to upper levels for real-world testing or whatever. I bet I could snag you one of the leftovers. You just might have to deal with answering Tony’s questions about the functionality of the interface and all a’that.”

“Tony? Tony Stark?” Clint’s mind was reeling. How the hell did Bucky know Tony Stark?

“Yeah, Stark. My boss.” Bucky was looking at him like this shouldn’t be news.

“You work at Stark Industries?” He asked.

Steve, who Clint had totally forgotten was even there, let out a loud laugh. “He’s CFO of Stark Industries, Clint. You didn’t know that?”

Clint’s mouth opened and closed a few times, looking back and forth between Bucky and Steve. Finally, he managed to say, “No, I did not know that.”

“I guess you academic types don’t pay much attention to the business world,” Steve said, clapping Clint on the shoulder.

He almost protested to being called an academic, but he supposed it was actually accurate now. Sometimes he still thought of himself as the kid debating whether or not to get his GED after leaving the circus and forgot that he was a graduate student planning on getting his PhD in history eventually.

“It’s not a big deal,” Bucky said, clearly embarrassed.

“Not a big deal.” Steve made a disbelieving noise. “CFO of one of the biggest countries in the world by 29 is a big deal, Buck.”

Bucky just shook his head and shrugged. “Anyway, Steve’s ditching me to work instead of getting dinner. I was going to go to that new ramen place around the corner, if you want to come, Clint.”

The new ramen place around the corner was really fucking trendy and always packed (though the reviews Clint had heard from friends said it lived up to the hype). Also, it was pretty expensive. And as mentioned, Clint had no money.

“Ah, thanks, Bucky, but I better stay in,” Clint said, disappointed. He really wanted to go to dinner with Bucky.

“Are you sure? My treat.” Bucky’s smile was verging on a smirk, as if he knew Clint wanted to say yes.

“No, you don’t have to…”

“C’mon, Clint. If you don’t come, I’m gonna have to call Tony so I won’t be eating alone. Don’t make me call Tony, Clint.”

Jesus fuck, Bucky’s eyes were mesmerizing. A stormy blue that left Clint feeling hypnotized.

What was happening to him? Was he dying? He felt like a middle schooler with a crush. But, like, a crush on a teacher. You know, some one way out of his league and unattainable.

“Yeah, yeah all right. I’ll come,” he finally choked out, tearing his eyes away from Bucky’s and willing the blush he could feel rising away.

Bucky’s answering smile was blinding.

“Good,” Steve said, retrieving a spoon from the drawer and a carton of ice cream from the freezer. “That means he’ll leave me alone and I’ll actually get some work done tonight. You know, you really need a new boyfriend, Buck.”

“You think so, Stevie?” Bucky asked, his eyes fixed on Clint, a smirk falling into place on his mouth.

Now Clint was definitely blushing, heat washing over him, and any doubt he had over whether or not Bucky had actually been hitting on him disappeared. Everything else had been subtle little flirtations. This was something else entirely.

“Yeah,” Steve said. Somehow oblivious to the charged atmosphere in the room as he dug into the ice cream with his spoon. “I never get anything done when you’re single.”

“Well, I’ll get to work on that,” Bucky said, shifting and standing straight. Somehow managing to seem perfectly casual as he started for the door. “You ready, Clint?”

“Yeah, ready.” Clint grabbed his keys as they headed out the door, still not entirely sure what had just happened.

The restaurant was, as he expected, very busy, but Bucky just walked in (right past the twenty or so people waiting by the front door), talked to the hostess, and then motioned for Clint to follow. They were led to a small, secluded table in the back.

“Can I order for you?” Bucky said when the waiter approached. “I had some very trustworthy friends tell me what was best.”

“Sure.” Clint’s tendency to eat anything and everything put in front of him meant it was no big deal to let Bucky order. And Bucky was paying, after all.

And then Bucky proceeded to order in Japanese.

When he turned back to Clint, Bucky actually blushed. Clint’s astonishment must have showed because Bucky explained, “I learned for business. Stark does a lot of work with a few Japanese companies. I’m actually not that good. I get corrected all the time on conference calls.”

“Still cool,” Clint said. “Do you know any other languages?”

“A couple…” Bucky said.

Clint just waited, eyebrows raised.

“Uh, I’m fluent in English and Russian,” Bucky admitted. “I’m passable in Japanese, Spanish, and German.”

“That’s awesome.”

Bucky shrugged, still embarrassed. For some reason, he didn’t seem to like having a lot of attention on him.

Bucky deflected, saying, “So tell me about your research.”

Conversation flowed easily after that. Bucky was also fluent in flirting, apparently, leaving Clint constantly playing catch up. Though he found he didn’t really mind that because Bucky always ended up with that sexy goddamn smirk on his face.

The food was delicious too and Clint practically inhaled it. Which he maybe should’ve been more embarrassed about, but it didn’t hit him until they were leaving the restaurant that their dinner had been an awful lot like a date. But that wasn’t the case right? They had just gone to dinner as friends. Because Steve couldn’t go. Right?

Suddenly, Clint didn’t know what to do with his hands. He forgot how to use words. They walked down the street in silence. It wasn’t really an awkward silence, thank god. But it gave Clint too much time to think.

Too much time to think about the gorgeous man next to him who was funny and paid for dinner and wanted to give him a laptop and seemed actually interested in his research and smiled at Clint like he’d never seen anything better. God, Clint was fucked.

Knowing that did nothing to alleviate his confusion. Clint didn’t like men. He just didn’t. He had never felt an attraction to another man before. But he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to Bucky. There was no point in denying that anymore. But what did that mean?

He took comfort in what Natasha had said. That he didn’t need to act on it if he didn’t want to. It didn’t need to change anything that he happened to come across a guy he was attracted to. That was his mantra for the rest of the short walk home.

Bucky left him at the door with a casual “see you soon” and a smirk that set Clint on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering, Clint is doing his thesis on medieval weaponry (of course) and Natasha's focus (she hasn't decided on a specific thesis topic yet) is Slavic history and language. Sam's also a graduate student in psychology.  
> The story of how Bucky became CFO at such a young age will come out soon(ish). Stay tuned.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for inspo stuff and fic update stuff at [awrites](awrites.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather short, but it felt like the right place to end it. The rest of them will probably be considerably longer.  
> Also, notice I've upped the rating, because I figured, why not just go all in, right? But the hanky panky will not start until next chapter.

Clint decided not to worry about it. If he ignored it, it would go away. Right? That was his typical response to dealing with all of his problems.

That lasted about the six hours of sleep he got that night. He woke up to a text message and a picture of two ties.

_Bucky: Which tie says you’re an asshole and I’ll never in a million years recommend to Tony that he work with your company?_

One tie was a light purple color. The other tie was silver with thin, vertical, black stripes. Clint found himself smiling.

_Clint: def the silver_

_Bucky: Oh? I thought you liked purple_

_Clint: purple is a happy color u dont want happy_

_Bucky: Good point._

_Clint: but I’m probs not the best person to be asking. clothes arent really my thing_

_Bucky: No, I trust you._

Clint cursed the stupid, giddy smile on his face, and the stupid, fluttering butterflies in his stomach, and the stupid, amazing visual image of Bucky wearing the silver tie and a perfectly fitted suit.

He dropped his phone on the bed and walked away to keep himself from sending some dopey emojis or something equally awful in response. He had to get to his TA office hours soon anyway to listen to undergrads whine about their paper grades. Then he had class. Then he planned on spending a few solid hours in the library working on the second chapter of his thesis. It was his favorite part of the whole thesis because he got to talk about the misconceptions of the role of archers in medieval combat.

The internet wasn’t up and running in his and Steve’s apartment yet, so until it was, most of his research and writing would have to take place on campus.

After that he was going to round out the day getting drinks with Sam and Tasha as they did every Friday. It was one of his favorite parts of the week. Sometimes other friends joined, but the three of them were always there.

He had a text when he got out of class.

_Bucky: I think the tie worked_

_Clint: of course it did I’m a genius didnt you know?_

_Bucky: I wasn’t aware, no, but thanks for informing me_

They texted back and forth for the next several hours, all through Clint’s study session and him running home to grab a quick dinner. It felt natural. Somehow, topics kept coming up and he never questioned what he should say or if he should respond at all. Just like at dinner the night before, talking to Bucky, even through text, came incredibly easily to him.

The closest he got to feeling so comfortable with another person was Natasha. Even the light flirting was as natural as breathing throughout their conversation. It wasn’t until after the texts had slowed down that he realized there had even been any flirting, but reading back through the messages, it was obvious coming from both sides. He banged his head on the kitchen cabinet several times.

This was getting out of hand.

“Clint? What the hell are you doing?” Steve was standing behind him, having apparently seen him abusing the cabinet with his face.

“Uh, nothing. I’m fine.” Clint responded eloquently.

Steve raised an eyebrow at him, but shrugged. “Okay, whatever,” he said before making his way past Clint to the refrigerator.

“Are you coming to Marvel tonight?” Clint asked in an attempt to move any of Steve’s lingering thoughts away from his distress.

“No, sorry, man,” Steve replied, as he set a kettle full of water on the stove. “I promised Peggy we’d do date night tonight. She’s got that business trip coming up and she wanted to spend some time together before that.”

Clint nodded along as Steve spoke. “Yeah, that’s understandable. Well, if the two of you decide you want some company, you know where we’ll be. And, uh, maybe send me a text if you want me to stay away from the apartment tonight.”

Clint threw in a wink as he left the kitchen to put on a better shirt and maybe see if he had any clean jeans.

He was just messing with Steve. Peggy had her own place, so Clint was sure they’d end up there at the end of the night rather than in the shared apartment. Better to have no chance of being interrupted by drunk and disorderly roommates. Friday nights with Sam and Tasha typically ended up with Clint a little drunk and disorderly.

Marvel was their usual hang out because it offered a few options. The front room downstairs was a laid-back sports bar. The back room had a fancy cocktail menu and dress code. Upstairs was a dance club.

No matter what kind of mood they were in, Marvel could typically meet their desires.

Tasha and Sam were already there and had claimed a booth in the sports bar area when he arrived. Clint ordered himself a beer at the bar and then joined them.

“Hey, man,” Sam said when he slid into the booth, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Steve told me about your laptop. Tough break.”

Sam was probably Steve’s best friend other than Bucky and had introduced the two of them when Steve was looking for a new roommate. Clint found himself wondering how well Sam knew Bucky.

“It’s still chugging along for the moment, but I fear the end is nigh,” Clint said after taking a long swig from his beer.

Tasha rolled her eyes. “When it’s in that much pain, you’re supposed to put the pet down.”

Clint stuck his tongue out at her in response.

They settled into their normal teasing routine easily, blowing off steam and laughing through several rounds.

When Sam went to use the restroom, Tasha slid closer to Clint. “So what’s the status on the gay crisis?”

Clint sputtered. “Christ, Tasha. You can’t just ask me shit like that.”

He was already feeling the booze they had been downing and was not prepared for an interrogation of any sort, especially if it had to do with Bucky and the attraction Clint definitely did not feel for him.

“I can and I did. Now spill,” Tasha demanded.

“There is no status because there is no gay crisis,” Clint insisted. “You know what we should do? We should go dance. Let’s go upstairs when Sam gets back.”

“I don’t want to dance,” Natasha said. “I want you to talk about your feelings and I want to understand why you’re denying that you like the guy.”

Clint just crossed his arms stubbornly and mumbled incoherently about mean friends trying to pressure him into being well-adjusted.

“Okay, clearly you’re not drunk enough.” Natasha slid out from the booth. “I’ll get us a few rounds of shots and then you’ll be spilling your guts.”

  “Yeah, right. I have an iron will, Romanoff.”

Three rounds of shots later and Clint was shitfaced. Natasha, somehow, still seemed perfectly poised. Sam had declined to do more than one shot, so he was doing okay too. Clint, however, could never learn his lesson when it came to accepting drinking challenges from Natasha.

Natasha had yet to bring up Bucky again, and she probably wouldn’t while Sam was around which was thoughtful of her.

But that didn’t mean that Clint’s thoughts weren’t on the beautiful brunette. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled out his phone.

_Clint: hi :)_

Bucky didn’t respond right away, and Clint didn’t want Natasha to know he was texting Bucky, so he kept the phone firmly in his grasp under the table. A few minutes passed with no response and Clint was drunkenly disappointed.

It must’ve shown because Natasha raised an eyebrow at him.

Clint thought Natasha was very pretty. If they weren’t like brother and sister, he would probably want to sleep with her. Clint’s muddled mind mentally gagged at the thought of sleeping with Natasha. It was just wrong to even consider as a possibility. Besides, he had his sights set on someone else.

Except, wow, no. He definitely did not. He and Bucky were just friends, obviously.

Clint dragged a hand down his face and then through his hair. He was to the point of drunk where all the lights seemed too bright and the edges of everything blurred. Also, his hearing aids were picking up a weird feedback.

His phone jumped in his hand with a short vibration.

_Bucky: Hello Clint_

_Bucky: What are you doing?_

Clint was distantly aware that he was smiling like a loon.

_Clint: hanging w smefriends_

_Bucky: That sounds like fun_

_Clint: Yeah but I wanna dance andthe y dont wanna danc_

_Bucky: Are you drunk, Clint?_

_Clint: pffft no_

_Clint: probbly_

_Bucky: Do you have a ride home?_

_Clint: i can jus take a uber or smethin_

_Bucky: Where are you?_

_Clint: Mervl_

_Clint: Marvl_

_Clint: Marvel_

_Clint: on 99 th_

_Bucky: I’m going to come pick you up, okay?_

_Bucky: Do your friends need a ride home too?_

_Clint: no you don have t do tht buck_

_Clint: i can get hme fine_

_Bucky: It’s fine. I’m pretty close to there anyway._

“Damn, Clint,” Sam suddenly addressed him. “Who’re you texting? You look like you’ve fallen in love.”

“Nooooo,” Clint said, shaking his head. “Pfft. No. This ‘s jus’, y’know, m’friend. Who has real pretty hair. A-and real pretty eyes. Y’know m’friend.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Sam shot a confused glance at Natasha before reaching for Clint’s phone. “Maybe we should take this away from you. Don’t want you texting anyone you wouldn’t if you were sober.”

Clint giggled and stuffed his phone down his pants. Sam rolled his eyes, but acquiesced. Natasha just smirked knowingly at him from across the table.

Clint was also at the level of drunk where time seemed to have no meaning. He was aware enough to know that Sam had swapped his beer for water and to know that Natasha and Sam were flirting shamelessly. He had a fleeting wish that he wasn’t so drunk so that he could go home by himself and let them finish the night together however they wanted.

And yet, he knew he would need help getting home.

It didn’t occur to him that maybe Bucky really was coming to get him until suddenly he was standing next to Clint, a hand on the booth behind Clint’s head and an affectionate smile on his face.

“Buck! Y’came! D’you want t’have a drink? They have…drinks!” Clint reached out and tugged Bucky into the booth next to him.

“No, I’m fine,” he said with a laugh and brushed his hand down Clint’s arm. “I came to make sure you got home okay, remember?”

Bucky greeted Sam warmly and introduced himself to Natasha who’s expression Clint was having trouble reading due to his level of intoxication. But if he had to guess, Clint would say that her protective side was rearing its head.

“I wasn’t sure who he was with,” Clint heard Bucky say. “So I wanted to make sure he got home. And since I’m here, I can get him out of your hair.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Sam seemed on board with the idea.

“If you really don’t mind,” Sam said. “I mean, we’re the ones who got him drunk so it should probably be our responsibility, but I wanted to stay at least until the end of the game.”

His words made Clint wonder what time it was. He had been sure it was at least midnight, but what games would still be on at midnight?

“No, it’s fine,” Bucky told him. “You stay.”

He vaguely heard Sam reassuring Natasha that Bucky was cool and would take care of Clint.

“’S fine, Tasha,” Clint heard himself say. “Buck will take care o’me. Right, Buck?”

“Of course. I’ll take you straight home. No funny business.”

Clint bit back a comment about being okay if there was a little funny business. Then he was being herded out of the booth and through the bar with Bucky’s hand resting lightly on his lower back. He was honestly surprised he wasn’t stumbling more until he realized the Bucky also had a grip on his bicep.

Clint flexed and then started giggling uncontrollably as Bucky just shook his head in fond exasperation.

Bucky lead him to a small, black car parked a little ways down the block and helped him into it. Clint snuggled into the corner of the seat while Bucky made his way around to the driver’s side.

Clint watched Bucky with a content smile on his face as Bucky pulled out onto the street.

“What?” Bucky asked after a minute, turning to look at Clint for just a second before shifting his eyes back to the road.

“Y’came t’get me,” Clint said. He was suddenly feeling rather sleepy.

“I said I was going to, didn’t I?” Bucky smiled back at him warmly, his right hand reaching across the console to touch Clint’s knee for just a moment.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, but didn’t continue.

“Did you have a fun night?” Bucky asked.

“I always h’ve fun w’ Tasha and Sam.”

“You always drink this much with Natasha and Sam?”

“Nooo,” Clint said, letting his eyes slip closed. “Tasha kept askin’ me stuff ‘bout you.”

“About me?”

Clint hummed affirmatively without opening his eyes. He liked listening to the sound of Bucky’s voice.

“Why would she ask you questions about me, Clint?” Bucky’s voice was soft as he asked. Softer than Clint had ever heard it.

He popped one eye open to look at Bucky again. “’Cause you’re damned confusing!”

Bucky laughed, and it was a beautiful sound. “I thought I was being pretty straightforward, actually.”

“Well, yeah-but _no_.” Clint said. He realized belatedly that they had stopped in front of his apartment building. He didn’t want to get out.

“Oh really?” Bucky asked, turning fully towards Clint now that they were stopped.

“Yeah!” Clint responded, feeling suddenly indignant. “Y’do all these… _things._ ”

Bucky’s lips were twitching in amusement. “Do you want me to stop doing things, Clint?”

“Ye—uh no. I mean, maybe…” Clint stuttered, struggling to get his thoughts in order. What did he want? Why did he not want Bucky to do things for him? Why was he dizzy?

Bucky’s face morphed into a serious expression. “Look, I want to have this conversation, but not while you’re drunk.”

“’M not _that_ drunk,” Clint argued.

“Sure you’re not,” Bucky assured him. “Here’s the deal: if you want to have this conversation, come over to my place tomorrow night for dinner, okay? If you don’t show up, I’ll assume you want to just be friends and I’ll let it go.”

Clint’s brow furrowed as he regarded Bucky, processing what he had said.

“Does that sound all right?” Bucky prompted him again.

Clint drew in a deep breath, looking down at his hands. He was suddenly feeling much more sober, but he still couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought.

“’M not gay,” he finally whispered, refusing to look up and meet Bucky’s eyes.

Gentle fingers brushed across his cheek before slipping underneath his chin and lifting. He found himself looking into Bucky’s stormy eyes once again, wanting to drown in them.

Bucky sighed and dropped his hand after ghosting his thumb over Clint’s bottom lip. “It’s your choice, Clint, whether or not you show up tomorrow night. I won’t be mad if you don’t.”

Clint’s mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but nothing came out. He wanted to reassure Bucky, to take away that sad look from his face, but he felt lost. Everything was confusing and nothing, in that moment, felt right.

“Come on,” Bucky said. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

Clint leaned on Bucky all the way up the stairs, reveling in his warmth.         Bucky opened the door for him with his spare key, gave Clint a sad smile, and let his fingers graze over Clint’s jawline once before stepping back.

Clint was pushed lightly to get him inside the apartment, and then he was alone, the door shutting behind him. He felt suddenly very cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, thoughts, squeals, and constructive criticisms always accepted and well loved. Kudos are also a thing that I enjoy. 
> 
> In case you were wondering, Sam is working on his PhD in Psychology, his research focuses on the effect of routine on PTSD symptoms in veterans. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for inspo stuff and fic update stuff at [awrites](awrites.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance if the smut is disappointing. It took me forever to write and eventually I just had to move on. But this chapter is way longer than the other ones, so I hope that makes up for it a bit.  
> Happy reading, friends.

Clint woke up the next morning to a pounding headache, a queasiness in his stomach, and a feeling of blind panic for some reason he couldn't quite place. This was all Natasha's fault. He grabbed his phone.

_Clint: this is all your fault_

_Tasha: lunch?_

Clint managed to drag himself out of bed and into the shower after swallowing a handful of aspirin. He knew getting something in his stomach would make him feel better, and he also knew that he had basically nothing in the apartment in the way of food.

He showed up at a diner a few blocks from campus that he and Natasha liked about an hour later. She was already there with a mug of steaming tea in her hand.

"You look like shit," she said as he sat down.

Clint dropped his head to table and groaned. The waitress walked up and before she could get a word out, he said, "coffee. Please, god, get me coffee."

Neither of them said anything else until Clint had chugged his first cup. It burned his mouth a little, but was so worth it.

When he looked back up, feeling slightly human again, Natasha was watching him intently. He didn't like the determined look in her eye. It was too similar to the look she had that time Clint ended up on the wrong end of a slap bet.

She folded her hands on the table in front of her. "Talk to me, Clint."

"About what?" He asked, perusing the menu so he didn't have to make eye contact.

"What happened after you left last night?"

"What happened after _you_ left last night?" He countered. "Did Sam finally make a move?"

"Yes, but..."

"Wait, really?" Clint laughed, dropping the menu in surprise. "I didn't even think... what happened?"

"This is not about me, Clint Barton." Natasha was scowling pretty hard, and Clint sobered up pretty quick under her glare.

Sighing, he said, "Nothing happened, Tasha. He took me home, made sure I got upstairs. That's it."

Natasha crossed her arms, unsatisfied. "I don't believe you."

"It's true!" Clint insisted. "I..."

He paused, realizing that he honestly didn't remember much of the car ride home. He could very vividly remember the casual touches in the bar and in the car, fingertips brushing against his skin and pressing through his clothes, and the curl of Bucky's mouth when he smiled. He could remember the sadness on Bucky's face just before he left.

But, wait, why had he been sad?

Clint wracked his brain. 

"We... I mean, we talked a little. I don't know. I was really drunk, Tasha."

"You don't remember what you talked about at all?"

Clint groaned and ran a hand through his already messy hair. He hadn't really taken the time to brush it that morning.

"We talked about...I think I said how I was surprised he came to get me and he asked about... hanging out with you and Sam." His memory was so fuzzy. This was all Natasha's fault. It would've been fine if she hadn't bought those shots. "I told him... I told him that you... I told him that we talked about him..."

Oh oh _oh_.

He remembered. He remembered the whole conversation. He remembered why Bucky had been so serious by the time he left.

Clint cursed. "Oh god, what am I gonna do, Tasha?! Goddammit, I'm so dumb. I'm so so so stupid..."

"Clint!" Natasha grabbed his hands which were waving in the air. "Slow the fuck down, okay? What just happened? What did you remember?"

Clint buried his face in his hands and slowly related the conversation from the night before, leaving no detail that he could remember out, including the intimate little touches and sad expression.

When he was done, she sat back against the booth and crossed her arms. "So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know, Tasha," he cried. "I don't... I'm not..."

"You're scared."

Clint froze and gaped at her. "I'm not scared, Tasha."

His phone vibrated in his pocket with a text message. He pulled it out mostly to give himself some time before having to continue the conversation.

_Bucky: How are you feeling?_

Speak of the devil.

_Clint: like death warmed over tbh_

_Bucky: I'm not really surprised._

_Clint: I blame Tasha_

_Bucky: That seems reasonable._

The “…” popped up again immediately after the last message came through.

_Bucky: so I realized after leaving last night that you don't know where I live. So I'll send you my address and directions for getting up to my place. I'm making lasagna. It'll be ready around 7._

_Bucky: but remember that if you don't show up, I won't be mad. We can still be friends._

_Bucky: I just want to talk some things out so we can be on the same page._

_Clint: ok_

_Clint: thanks buck_

When he looked back up from his phone, Natasha was watching him with a soft expression on her face.

"You should go," she said.

"What?" Clint's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Tonight," she clarified. "You should go talk to Bucky tonight."

"Okay..." Clint adjusted in his seat as the waitress set their food down in front of them. "But why?"

Natasha smiled. "That was him texting you just now, right?"

"Yes?" Clint spoke around a mouthful of French fries.

She nodded once, definitively. "The smile on your face when you saw it... I haven't seen that smile since Bobbi."

Clint almost choked on his water. He didn't even know what that meant. He didn't have a certain smile for Bobbi. Did he?

But Natasha was still talking. "Even though you're confused and you're scared, you still like him enough to smile like that when he texts you. I wasn't sure before if I was going to encourage you to pursue this, but… now I'm sure. You should go, talk to him tonight, and be brave."

Clint swallowed thickly, staring at his plate. "But what...but what if I'm wrong? What if it's not...what I think it is?"

"It is," Natasha said. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, Clint. But you've been running from things all of your life. You just need to be brave and try. Okay?"

Clint watched her as she began to eat. She was probably right. Natasha was always right. She had never steered him wrong before. Well, except for that thing with the slap bet.

But not about something like this. Not about something important.

"Okay," he whispered in response.

He was a ball of anxiety the rest of the day. He almost texted Bucky to say that he decided to come, but then chickened out. Better to not tell Bucky only for him to change his mind at the last minute. He had a feeling Natasha wouldn’t be letting him change his mind though.

Underneath the anxiety, though, was a hidden current of excitement. For what, exactly, he couldn’t have guessed. Maybe just getting to see Bucky again. He always enjoyed his time with Bucky.

But it was definitely there, wherever it came from. There was no denying it.

He found himself in his room around six, staring into his closet blankly. What the hell was he supposed to wear to this anyway?

Was it a date? Was it just two friends hanging out? Was it an interview? Should he bring a resume with references from past significant others? Best to leave Bobbi off that list if he did.

Thankfully, he got a text from Natasha just as he was about to throw in the towel.

_Natasha: Wear your dark wash jeans and that purple henley I got you for christmas last year_

He sent her a picture once he had the outfit on and received a thumbs up emoji in response.

Why was it that Natasha seemed to know what was going on better than he did, he wondered as he grabbed his messenger bag and headed out into a seasonably warm evening. Luckily without seeing Steve on the way out.

That would’ve been awkward. Where you headed Clint? Oh, just to see your brother and decide whether or not I have romantic and sexual feelings for him. Yep, see you later.

No, no. Best to avoid that at all costs.

He found the building easily, walking through the door at 6:50. He loitered in the lobby for a few minutes, wondering if he was too early or if Bucky would care. Eventually, he got too restless and headed towards the last elevator positioned just past the bank of elevators in the center of the lobby, as Bucky had told him to do when he sent the address. He pressed the button to call it, and it opened immediately.

Once the doors closed on him, he went to press a button only to realize that Bucky hadn’t told him an apartment number or a floor and, also, there were no buttons. Instead, a small thumb scanner had popped out of the wall.

Clint hesitated for a moment before pressing his thumb to it. After a moment, it lit up green and a small screen behind the scanner read “welcome, Clint Barton,” which was just creepy. How did the elevator know who he was? Was he put into some system? How did they get his thumbprint?

The elevator started moving as he devolved into questioning everything he knew about the world.

When it opened, it was directly into an apartment. The penthouse, if Clint had to guess, based on how far upwards the elevator had traveled. He knew Bucky was rich, but damn, he had a private elevator?

The foyer he stepped out into was empty except for a small table with a sketch hanging on the white wall behind it. Clint thought it looked a lot like Steve’s style.

He made his way slowly through to the main part of the apartment. It was a fairly modern style, but still cozy somehow. The living room sat to the left with a large TV, and leather and metal furniture spread all around. To the right was the kitchen with sleek chrome appliances and white marble filling it. Standing behind the large island, which was the only thing actually dividing the kitchen from the living room, was Bucky.

He was grinning widely at Clint.

He was beautiful.

“Hey,” he said when Clint met his eyes. “You came.”

He sounded almost relieved. As if he really hadn’t expected Clint to show up, but desperately wanted him to. It sent Clint’s mind reeling. How could this amazing man really want him that much?

“Yeah. Yeah, I did,” Clint responded, stepping hesitantly towards the kitchen. “I’m being brave.”

Bucky nodded and gestured towards a chair. “Put your bag down and have a seat. The lasagna’s almost ready.”

Clint did as suggested, watching Bucky move about his kitchen easily. He took a seat at the bar on the opposite side of the island from where Bucky was working. It seemed casual to eat at the bar, rather than the table. And Clint needed that if he was ever going to get his nerves to settle.

Bucky was wearing suit pants and a white shirt. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to just below his elbows and the tie he had presumably been wearing that day was gone, the first two buttons open. His hair was up in a loose bun, tendrils falling down around his face, highlighting the cut of his jaw. This was one of the most casual looks Clint had ever seen him in. Clint licked his lips.

“Do you cook a lot?” Clint asked.

A small blush rose on Bucky’s cheeks. “Uh, no, not as much as I’d like. I admit, I didn’t actually make this lasagna. My housekeeper, Yeny, made it and left directions for heating it up.”

Clint couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. “You shouldn’t’ve told me. I would’ve been really impressed by your cooking prowess, considering I can’t do much more than boil pasta.”

“Well, credit where credits due, and all that,” Bucky responded. He set a salad on the island in front of Clint. “I can cook decently well. I just don’t have much time. The job keeps me pretty busy.”

Clint nodded in understanding. “Natasha cooks when she’s stressed. So if I want a home-cooked meal, I just head over to her house when I know she’s got deadlines.”

Bucky chuckled at that as he filled two wine glasses.

The timer sounded before he could respond, so Bucky’s attention was taken up by pulling the lasagna out of the oven and grabbing plates from one of the cabinets.

“Eat as much as you like,” Bucky told him. “Yeny always makes enough to feed me for several days if I’m eating by myself, so there’ll be plenty for the two of us.”

Clint, never the type to turn down food, did as suggested, scarfing down two helpings of lasagna and one large portion of the salad. They talked about everyday things as they ate. Bucky talked about his job a bit. Clint got to hear the story of the asshole Bucky had had a meeting with the day before, a guy Bucky had served with named Rumlow. Clint talked about school and complained about his students.

It was…domestic.

And as they settled into their usual banter, Clint found that his anxiety and nervousness from earlier in the day bled away, leaving a warm contentment that always seemed to come with spending time with Bucky.

Right up until the point where Bucky dropped their plates into the sink and turned back to him, the soft smile sliding from his face, replaced with an uncertainty that seemed so out of character for him. Clint cleared his throat. This was the part he had been dreading. All the confusion from the last few weeks coming to a head.

“So,” Bucky started, his eyes lifting from where they had been inspecting the counter in front of him to meet Clint’s. “I guess we should talk now.

Clint cleared his throat again. “Yeah, I guess that’s what we’re here for after all.”

He would have readily welcomed a hole opening up in the earth to swallow him and the whole apartment building along with it.

“I think I’ve made what I want pretty clear, Clint,” Bucky said softly, his eyes seeming to search Clint’s face for something.

“I, uh,” Clint’s eyes scanned the room around him. “I guess I’m confused.”

“Confused about what?” Bucky prompted, his voice remaining gentle and calm. He put his hands on the counter in front of him, leaning forward slightly towards Clint who remained seated.

Clint could feel a blush rising to his face. “Just…I don’t really understand… why? Why me? I mean, I’m pretty…”

Bucky raised his eyebrows questioningly as Clint trailed off.

“Boring,” Clint finished after a moment.

Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion and then he shook his head once. “You are definitely not boring.”

Clint made a sound of disbelief. Compared to someone like Bucky Barnes, Clint was nothing. That was just fact. Undeniable.

“Clint, how can you…” Bucky made a frustrated noise and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Clint, you are incredibly intelligent. I love listening to you talk about your research and your writing. You’re funny. You’re sexy as hell, but somehow also weirdly adorable. And you’re just a little bit of a disaster, which, you know, keeps things interesting.”

Now Clint’s face was bright red, he was sure. “Some would argue I’m a pretty big disaster.”

Bucky waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Not the point. The point is… I want you. I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you, and more and more as I got to know you.”

Bucky’s eyes burned into Clint’s, intense in a way Clint hadn’t seen them before. It was utterly captivating. And sincere enough that, though he doubted whether or not those things Bucky had said were true, Bucky clearly believed it, Clint was able to set his doubts aside for the moment.

“Okay,” he said.

“Then the next question is,” Bucky continued, his gaze finally dropping momentarily. The uncertainty from earlier creeping back into his posture and voice. “Do you want me?”

All of Clint’s ability to think seemed to drop from his mind in a single moment. This. This is what he had been dreading. This decision. This asking for an admission. An admission that he wasn’t sure he was ready to give.

“I don’t…I’m not…” Clint struggled to get words out. He was having trouble drawing air into his lungs. His hands were shaky and he was starting to get dizzy. “I’ve never even…”

“Clint,” Bucky’s voice broke through Clint’s panic. “Clint, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

Cool hands touched Clint’s neck, slid over his shoulders and down his arms, and then grasped his own hands tightly.

“Just breathe, Clint,” Bucky said. “We’re okay. Just breathe.”

Bucky’s right hand came back up and rubbed his shoulder soothingly. Clint fought the urge to fall forward against Bucky’s chest.

Clint’s breathing slowly came back under control. His mind cleared slightly with the renewed flow of oxygen. Scrubbing a hand through his hair a few times, Clint tried to get his thoughts back under control.

Bucky’s hands dropped from where he was touching Clint when he saw that Clint had regained some control and disappeared into the pockets of his suit pants. Clint fought back a disappointed whine that wanted to rise up in his throat at the loss of contact. God, he had never felt this needy before. What the fuck was even happening to him right now?

“Clint,” Bucky’s voice was soft and soothing when he spoke. Clint wanted to close his eyes and lose himself in that voice. “Do me a favor, okay? Don’t think about the past. Don’t think about what you’re used to or who you think you are. Just think about now, in this moment. Do you want me?”

Clint swallowed, his eyes finding Bucky’s and seeing Bucky staring right back. A desperation of sorts was forming in the depths of Bucky’s eyes. A plea.

A breathy “yes” fell from Clint’s lips almost without his permission.

The most brilliant smile split Bucky’s face, though he was clearly trying and failing to suppress it. Clint couldn’t help but smile back, even though his was much weaker and wavered slightly.

“Okay,” Bucky said. “Okay, good.”

The moment caught up with Clint. He sucked in a sharp breath. “But I’ve never… you’re the first person…I mean, the first man I’ve ever, you know…I don’t even like men, you know?”

Bucky took a step closer to him. Clint was still sitting on the stool at the bar, but he was turned to face outwards now, away from the kitchen island. Bucky’s movement brought him into the V of Clint’s legs, effectively putting an end to Clint’s rambling. Bucky’s hands were removed from his pockets. One settled lightly on Clint’s knee; the other on the counter behind him so that Bucky was leaning further into Clint’s space.

“How about,” Bucky practically purred, an indulgent smirk on his face. “You let me kiss you, and then you can decide if there’s a little wiggle room in your heterosexuality.”

Clint’s mouth had gone dry the moment Bucky started speaking, all of his hesitations flying from his mind.

“Okay,” he choked out.

A wicked smile crossed Bucky’s lips, and he leaned in slowly, giving Clint time to change his mind. But he didn’t, and Bucky’s lips were on his, a gentle press until Bucky tilted his head a little further and his lips caught on Clint’s bottom one, causing it to drop slightly.

Then Bucky’s mouth was pressing more firmly, his tongue darting out to taste Clint’s lips. Clint’s mouth opened further on instinct, and Bucky didn’t hesitate to dip in, brushing his tongue against Clint’s teasingly before pulling back.

Clint chased Bucky’s mouth as he moved away. This time he was not able to stop the high pitched whine from escaping his throat.

Bucky chuckled. His expression was amused, but also appreciative, admiring, and just a touch hungry. His pupils were slightly wider than normal. He licked his lips once before biting down lightly on his bottom lip.

The whine happened again.

Where the hell was all this whining coming from?

They just watched each other for a moment while Clint sorted the thoughts he had managed to regain post-kiss. There weren’t many of them beyond “holy hell” and “let’s do that again.”

“Okay, so maybe I’m a little bit gay,” Clint finally said.

Bucky’s head dropped back as he laughed. Clint tried to pout, but a grin spread across his face instead.

Leaning back in, Bucky kissed him again once before dropping down on the stool next to him. He seemed to have to force his hands away from where they were touching Clint.

“Okay, okay,” Bucky said, clearly trying to get his own thoughts in order now. “There’s a few more things we need to talk about before anything else happens.”

Bucky attempted to tuck the wispy tendrils of hair that had fallen out of his bun behind his ears, but without much success. It was cute, watching him struggle with them. Instinctively, Clint’s mind pushed back against calling Bucky cute, but he forced it down.

Bucky was cute, and that was okay.

He thought Bucky was cute, and that was okay.

“Like what?” Clint asked.

“Well,” Bucky started, and suddenly he was nervous again. Clint thought they had already gotten past the hard part. “The thing is that I’m not really in a place for a relationship right now. I’m too…married to my work, I guess. Anytime I’ve tried to date in the last few years, it always ends with the person I’m seeing getting frustrated because I have to leave dates early or I’m out of town for weeks at a time. I just…I can’t do it. I can’t make it work.”

“Okay,” Clint said, brow furrowed.

“On top of that, the last time I dated one of Steve’s friends, it ended…badly. He’s still mad at me about it.”

“Okay,” Clint repeated.

“But that doesn’t change that I want this,” Bucky pushed on. “I want you. I want…”

“What?” Clint asked when he trailed off. “What do you want, Buck?”

The darkening of Bucky’s eyes caught Clint off guard; the expression so much more intense than it had been a moment before.

“If I’m being honest,” he started slowly. “I want you in my bed as much as I can have you. And I want to be able to take care of you, to give you things without you feeling like you need to turn them down. I take care of what’s mine, Clint. I have all this money now… More than I know what to do with. And I want to spend it on people I care about. So if we do this, I’ll buy you gifts and I expect you to take them. I expect you to let me take care of you.”

“But you don’t want to tell anyone,” Clint guessed. “About us.”

Bucky winced a bit. “Yes. I want to keep it a secret.”

“You want me to be your kept boy,” Clint said, a smirk on his lips.

Rolling his eyes, Bucky said, “No. I just want it to be between us for now. Not forever. We’ll just see how things go for a while. And until I can…have time for more. For a real relationship.”

In all honesty, Clint didn’t hate the idea of keeping his sexual evolution to himself for a while. Just while he sorted through it for himself.

“So you want to be…what? Fuck buddies?” Clint asked.

Bucky smiled again, but it was darker this time and self-deprecating, in a way. “Well, the other thing is that I am a very jealous person. Possessive, I think, is the right word for it. If you’re going to be mine, I expect you to actually be mine.”

“So, you want to be monogamous fuck buddies?” Clint raised his eyebrows. This was possibly the weirdest conversation he had ever had.

Bucky sighed. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”

“Okay,” Clint said. “I think I can deal with that.”

“Really?” Bucky asked in surprise. Clint supposed he had expected a little backlash.

Clint explained, gesturing between the two of them, “All of _this_ is really new to me. I’d like time to figure it out before announcing it to the world that, hey, I guess I like men now. I’ve never had a monogamous…not-relationship like this, but I think it could work. For now.”

Bucky nodded. “That makes sense.”

“But I want to be able to tell Tasha,” Clint hurriedly inserted. “I tell her everything and she’s been talking me through all of…this for the last few days. She won’t tell anyone if I ask her not to.”

“If you trust her, that’s fine with me,” Bucky agreed immediately.

“So that’s settled,” Clint said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “But there’s, uh, another thing.”

To Clint’s surprise, Bucky stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt. He waited in confused silence while Bucky shucked the shirt off and dropped it on the stool he had just vacated.

Clint’s eyes explored Bucky’s torso with an interest he had never felt for a man’s body. Until they snagged on the upper part of Bucky’s left arm.

Scars crisscrossed the entirety of his shoulder and bicep, looping all the way around his arm almost down to his elbow. It was as beautiful as it was horrifying. Clint snapped his mouth shut and drew his gaze deliberately back to Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s why I was discharged,” Bucky explained without waiting for Clint to ask. “It’s pretty gruesome, I know. That’s why I wanted you to see it before anything else happened. Not that anything has to happen tonight, I mean. Just because we decided…I’m not going to… we don’t have to…We can take it slow, you know? I’m not expecting anything. I just… I thought you should see it.”

Clint stood and took two steps towards him, until they were almost touching.

“Can I?” Clint asked, raising his hand.

“Sure,” Bucky said, seeming surprised by the question, and held his arm out slightly.

The first touch of fingertips was light, just a brush against the rough ridges. The second was firmer, a caress. Gathering his courage, Clint leaned forward and pressed his lips to Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky inhaled a sharp breath.

“You know this isn’t going to make me go anywhere, right?” Clint asked. “This isn’t…These scars are part of you, of your story. If people in the past haven’t been able to see that, they weren’t worth it anyway. Maybe they’re not…pretty or whatever. But they’re important.”

Bucky’s fingers pushed under Clint’s chin and he crashed their lips together. His tongue pushing into Clint’s mouth like he wanted to devour him. Clint pushed into the kiss, pressing against Bucky’s body and circling the arm not still wrapped around Bucky’s scarred bicep around his neck. He found that, other than the general firmness of Bucky’s body and the rasp of his face against Bucky’s slight five-o-clock shadow, it wasn’t really different than kissing a woman.

Maybe kissing Bucky was different. He’d never felt electricity like this with anyone else. But he had a feeling that had little to do with kissing a man and more to do with kissing _this_ man.

When they pulled apart, Clint looked back down at the scars, his fingers still rubbing over them up and down.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked.

“Not really,” Bucky replied, his right hand still holding firmly onto Clint’s hip. “After six reconstructive surgeries and eight years of physical therapy, I’ve pretty much got all the kinks worked out. It gets a little sore sometimes.”

“Six?” That seemed like a whole hell of a lot of surgeries.

Bucky just shrugged. “Yeah, four when it first happened. They said I almost lost the arm altogether. And two more when the Stark tech went in.”

“Stark tech? You have…stuff in there?”

“Yeah,” Bucky laughed. “Tony developed it after…we became friends. Even with the physical therapy, it still didn’t function very well. My fine motor control was shot. But then Tony made this tech... Don’t ask me to explain it. But it made it so I could really use my arm again.”

“That’s amazing,” Clint said, completely awed by the information.

“It is, but don’t tell Tony. He’s got a big enough head already. That’s what got him into developing prosthetics and stuff in the first place. Your hearing aids are Stark tech, right?”

“Oh, yeah, they are.” He had kind of forgotten that.

“Anyway,” Bucky said as he stretched his arm out to the side and then up over his head. “It works much better now. It had something to do with the nerves or something. All I know is I had a new level of appreciation for Tony and Bruce Banner’s level of genius afterwards.”

Bucky untangled himself from Clint and reached for his shirt.

Clint grabbed it before he could. “You don’t have to put that back on if you don’t want to.”

Bucky’s pupils widened immediately, and that wicked smile from earlier crept back across his face. “I don’t?”

Clint shook his head and bit his lip.

Then Bucky was on him, pushing him back against the corner of the island; his mouth hot and heavy on Clint’s. He pressed his knee between Clint’s legs, and Clint moaned loud and needy.

“Christ,” Bucky murmured against his lips. “Wanted you like this since the moment I saw you, sweetheart.”

Bucky trailed his lips down Clint’s throat. Clint tipped his head back to give him better access and instinctively thrust his hips against Bucky’s leg. At the same time, Clint wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist and dragged his hands up and down the smooth expanse of skin, letting his nails bite into the musculature on Bucky’s back just a bit.

This was easy. This was so easy. Clint almost couldn’t even believe how natural it felt. To touch Bucky, to kiss him, to be wrapped in his arms.

He was slightly broader than Bucky, though Bucky was by no means skinny, but Bucky was slightly taller. Just an inch or two. But enough to put Clint in a position he had never been in with a girl. He felt small. More than that, he felt protected. He felt safe in Bucky’s arms.

He could spend forever in Bucky’s arms.

Bucky’s lips found their way back to his. It was messy, hungry, tinged with desperation. Bucky nipped lightly at Clint’s bottom lip before, suddenly, he was gone. He had taken one massive step back. His chest was heaving, his lips swollen, and even more hair had escaped the tie. Clint had never wanted someone so much in his life.

“Hold on,” Bucky said when Clint reached for him again. He stepped forward again, close enough to touch, but put his hand on Clint’s chest, holding him in place. “Hold on, sweetheart. There’s one more thing…I forgot. One more thing.”

Clint licked his lips. He couldn’t think of anything that could possibly be more important than getting both of their clothes off.

“I, uh, I don’t bottom,” Bucky said with a slight stammer. “I can’t. It’s…a thing. I just…I can’t.”

Clint blinked in surprise then blushed. “That’s okay. I’ve, uh, I’ve thought about…with you. Not with anyone else, but with you, I kinda like the idea.”

“You’ve thought about it?” Bucky asked, hunger lighting his eyes again. It took Clint’s breath away.

“Y-yeah,” Clint licked his lips again. “O-of bottoming for you. Having you…inside me. I want it. I don’t know if I would want it with anyone else, but…well, you’re not like anyone else. Not to me anyway.”

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Bucky pressed their foreheads together, his eyes fluttering closed. “How are you so fucking perfect?”

Then he was gone again. Bucky grabbed Clint’s hand as he stepped away and pulled him towards the back of the apartment. Towards the bedrooms, presumably. Nerves fluttered in Clint’s chest. He may want it, and want it badly now that he was admitting to wanting it at all, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about the whole idea.

Bucky pulled him into the first room on the left. It was huge. Bigger than the common areas of Clint and Steve’s apartment combined. The king-sized bed was against the far wall, a comfortable looking light grey comforter spread across it.

Clint’s attention was pulled back to Bucky when he cupped Clint’s face, brushing his thumbs back and forth on Clint’s cheeks.

“Is this okay?” He asked quietly. “I meant what I said about not expecting anything. We can just make out a little if that’s what you want.”

Clint shook his head, swallowing heavily before leaning up to press a light kiss against Bucky’s lips. “I want everything. Or… at least, I want to try.”

Bucky let out a low growl and kissed him again, one hand sliding into Clint’s hair. “If you feel uncomfortable or you want to stop or slow down or…whatever, tell me, okay? I don’t want to rush into anything that you’re not ready for.”

Nodding, Clint said, “I promise.”

 Bucky kissed him once more before stepping back and dropping to sit on the end of the bed. “Take your clothes off for me, sweetheart.”

Taking a deep breath, Clint started with his socks and shoes, shucking them off and getting through the not at all sexy part quickly. Bucky’s heavy gaze burned into him as he moved. Next, he crossed his arms in front of him and tugged the henley over his head, dropping it to the ground at his feet.

Bucky made a strange noise in the back of his throat and reached out towards Clint torso, though he was too far away to actually touch. It took a minute for Clint to realize that Bucky was looking at the large, raised scar just under Clint’s right pectoral.

“Oh yeah,” Clint said, touching the scar lightly. “See? You’re not the only one with scars.”

“What happened?” Bucky asked.

Grinning, Clint replied, “Got shot by an arrow.”

“An arrow?” Bucky’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Hasn’t Steve ever mentioned that I grew up in a circus?” Clint asked.

“Sure you did.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“It’s true!” Clint insisted, laughing lightly. “After my parents died, my brother and I got put in a group home, but we ran away after like two weeks. Joined up with a circus and managed to stay out of the system until we had aged out.”

“Seriously?” Bucky was watching him with thinly veiled incredulity.

“Really, really, Buck. I’m not lying to you. You’re looking at the Amazing Hawkeye, the Carson Carnival’s best marksman.” Clint put his fists on his hips and gave his best show time smile.

“So the Carson Carnival’s best marksman shot himself with his own arrow?” Bucky asked with a laugh.

“No,” Clint pouted. “That was my brother, Barney. He was an archer too, but not as good as me. Anyway, it didn’t really hit me straight on. Just sliced the skin pretty deep as it went past. Could’ve been much worse, honestly.”

Bucky held his hand out towards him again, and Clint took it, stepping forward between Bucky’s legs when he pulled. With a sense of almost reverence, Bucky’s hands settled on Clint’s waist before Bucky leaned in and pressed his lips lightly against Clint’s scar in the same way Clint had done to his scars earlier.

Clint sucked in a breath as Bucky trailed wet kisses across the entire length of the scar.

“You know,” Clint breathed. “There is one good thing that came from my time in the circus.”

Bucky hummed questioningly against his skin.

Then it was Clint’s turn to let a wicked smile slide onto his features. He leaned over and whispered directly into Bucky’s ear, “I’m really flexible.”

Bucky groaned loudly, his hands tightening on Clint’s hips. Slipping a few fingers into the waistband of Clint’s jeans, he began blazing a trail of lips and teeth and tongue down Clint’s torso.

He slowed the farther down his lips got, eventually stopping at Clint’s belly button. Looking up at Clint, he touched the button on Clint’s jeans with one finger and asked, “Can I?”

“Christ,” Clint breathed, the sight before him relieving him of his ability to take in oxygen. “Yes, Bucky, please.”

Wasting no time, Bucky divested Clint of his pants and underwear in one pull. They dropped to his feet, Clint kicked them off and away, somehow not feeling weird at all standing naked in front of a man in this way. Why did he ever try to deny that he wanted this?

Clint’s cock was hardening rapidly, and the cool air did little to deter it from taking an interest in the proceedings as Bucky licked his lips, taking in the sight of Clint before him. Bucky’s hands gripped his hips again, and suddenly, he was being turned. He dropped on the bed with a hmpf and found himself now looking up at Bucky.

“Remember to tell me if you don’t like or don’t want something,” Bucky said before dropping to his knees in front of Clint.

Clint nodded dumbly, entranced at the sight of Bucky between his legs, exploring his thighs with eager lips. Then Bucky changed direction abruptly, pressing his tongue flat against the underside of Clint’s cock and licking all the way up to the tip. Clint moaned, his head tipping back and his eyes closing in pleasure. With one hand gently massaging the outside of Clint’s thigh, Bucky wrapped his lips around the head, sloppy and wet and so so good.

The only explanation was that Clint had died and gone to Heaven.

He lost track of time as he watched Bucky’s head bob up and down. At one point, he pulled the tie out of Bucky’s hair, finally getting his hands into that gorgeous hair. Bucky moaned happily when Clint tugged lightly.

The pressure at the base of his spine built quickly, but just as it began to overwhelm him, Bucky pulled off. He reached up with one hand and pushed Clint’s chest so he flopped back against the bed. His hands gripped Clint’s hips and pulled until his ass was hanging almost completely off the bed. Releasing his hips, he pulled on first one knee, then the other, bringing them both up so Clint’s legs were resting on his shoulders.

This all happened in fast sequence, so Clint found himself barely processing the movement before his cheeks were spread and Bucky’s wet tongue licked across his hole.

“Oh holy hell. Holy hell. That’s…that’s fucking weird. That’s so… Jesus Christ,” Clint rambled. He heard Bucky laugh and felt the huffs of air against his exposed entrance.

“Want me to stop?” Bucky asked.

“No, no. Definitely not. Do not fucking stop.”

Bucky responded by circling his tongue against the puckered opening, loosening the muscle bit by bit. Clint wasn’t even sure what noises were coming out of his mouth. He had never so much as experimented with this kind of thing before now, and it felt so strange but so good.

It only got weirder and better when Bucky’s tongue pushed past the outer ring and forced its way inside Clint’s body. It made Clint feel dirty in the best way. Bucky’s enthusiasm only served to make it better.

When Bucky’s tongue was easily fucking in and out of his body, Clint felt something else press against the rim. Bucky used his finger to trace the rim, silently asking permission.

“Jesus,” Clint gasped. “Please, please, please.”

Bucky wasted no time pulling away slightly so he could slide his finger inside of Clint instead of his tongue, the finger penetrating easily thanks to the copious amount of saliva coating Clint’s ass.

Still, the intrusion felt even more foreign than the wet press of tongue had, and Clint tensed up around it.

Bucky sat up straighter and massaged Clint’s thigh gently. “Relax, sweetheart. This will be easier if you relax.”

Clint took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes and focusing on releasing the tension from his muscles. After a moment, Bucky began to move his finger, pulling it out and thrusting it back in.

“So good for me, Clint,” Bucky murmured and pressed a kiss to the inside of Clint’s knee.

Pulling his finger away, Bucky let Clint’s legs drop from his shoulders and stood. Clint whimpered at the abrupt loss of stimulation.

“Back up,” Bucky said, moving towards the side of the bed. “All the way on the bed.”

Clint licked his lips as Bucky pulled lube and a condom out of the bedside table before reaching for his belt. Taking time to appreciate the sight in front of him, Clint watched as Bucky stripped the rest of the way out of his clothes.

Once he was naked, his cock fully erect and leaking, Bucky positioned himself between Clint’s legs on the bed, nudging them open a little wider. He looked amazing. Broad and strong as he loomed over Clint.

Clint was so busy admiring Bucky that he was surprised when he realized Bucky was doing the same to him, examining his body in appreciation. Clint had to force himself to remain still, fighting the instinct to squirm or redirect Bucky’s attention. It was a different sort of attention than he was used to. Clint knew he had a good body. Enough people had commented on it over the years. But Bucky’s admiration was more than that. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. It felt so much more intimate than the way others had looked at him over the years.

Bucky’s eyes finally landed back on Clint’s, and he smiled.

“You still want this?” Bucky asked.

Clint swallowed. There was a battle going on inside of him. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life, and his instincts, developed over years of superficial relationships, were to run from the intensity of the feelings. But he also knew that he didn’t want to run. He knew he would regret it if he did. He knew that this was worth facing his fears for.

Clint nodded. “Yeah, Buck. I do.”

Bucky grinned, his fingers reaching out to brush against Clint’s skin. “Okay. Tell me if you change your mind.”

“I know, I know,” Clint said, pretending to be annoyed. Trying to make a joke to alleviate the weight of the situation.

Bucky just raised an eyebrow at him and waited.

Rolling his eyes, Clint said, “I will, Buck. I promised. But I’m not going to change my mind.”

Studying Clint’s face intently, Bucky gnawed on his bottom lip before leaning over Clint and kissing him. Clint responded enthusiastically, sensing that what he said had affected Bucky in an unexpected way. Besides, he had missed Bucky’s lips. He decided any time spent without Bucky’s lips on his own or on his body was time wasted.

When Bucky pulled back, he was smiling again. He pressed their foreheads together and stayed there for a moment, seeming to be lost in his thoughts. Then he took a deep breath and proceeded to cover Clint’s face in quick kisses.

Laughing, Clint asked, “what the hell, Buck?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, shrugging as he brushed his nose against Clint’s. “Guess I just didn’t really think I’d ever get to have you like this. I kinda want to take my time with it. Savor it, you know?”

“Hey.” Clint pushed lightly on Bucky’s shoulder so he could look into Bucky’s eyes. “I mean it when I say I’m not going anywhere. I wouldn’t have even come over here tonight if I didn’t want this.”

“I know. I know.” Bucky nodded, his eyes falling away from Clint’s. Somehow, Clint wasn’t convinced Bucky really believed him, but he let it drop.

Bucky reached for the lube. “Do you want to do this part?”

“No,” Clint responded immediately. “You do it.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened again, the hunger returning and making Clint feel special just for being the object of that hunger.

Bucky took his time with his fingers, savoring it just like he said he wanted to. Soon Clint was squirming again. The pressure building inside of him with each brush of Bucky’s fingers against his prostate.

It was weird and it hurt a little bit with each new finger. But every time his eyes met Bucky’s, all of that would fall away and the weirdness and the burn just became part of the pleasure.

Bucky suggested that he turn over because it would be easier, but he said no. He wanted to be able to look at Bucky the whole time. So he was on his back, a pillow under his hips, when Bucky began to press inside of him.

He sucked in a breath at the burn and Bucky stopped. When he moved to pull back out, Clint made a wild grab for his arm.

“No no no no,” he babbled. “Don’t…just hold on. Just give me…”

Bucky did as he asked, staying in position while Clint got used to the intrusion. It was different than Bucky’s tongue or fingers. He felt so full, and Bucky had only barely breached him.

Bringing Clint’s hand to his face, Bucky kissed the back of it, then the palm, and then each knuckle while he waited. Clint could feel Bucky’s eyes on his face, though his eyes were closed.

Slowly, he got used to it. His body stretched and gave around Bucky. He opened his eyes and took in Bucky’s taut and flexed body, tension in the lines of his body as he kept himself from moving. It was then that Clint noticed how hard his own cock still was, dripping against his stomach.

“Okay, okay,” Clint said, licking his lips. “More.”

“Are you sure…” Bucky started, but Clint cut him off.

“Yes. Please, yes. Move, Bucky.”

Nodding, his teeth biting into his bottom lip, he gripped Clint’s hips again and did as he had been asked.

Clint wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist, lifting his hips farther and pressing the heels of his feet into Bucky’s back. Suddenly, he was desperate. He wanted all of it. At some point, he started babbling nonsense encouragement. Clint kept it up even as Bucky bottomed out and paused, getting control of himself.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” Bucky said, cutting Clint’s rambling off with a heated kiss. “Christ. Better than…than anything. God, sweetheart. You’re so perfect.

“Buck, move, c’mon,” Clint said.

They moved together naturally, Clint meeting Bucky’s thrusts every time. It started slow and languid and cautious, but quickly built into something more frantic, both losing themselves in the other. In Clint’s breathy gasps and Bucky’s guttural moans. In the slide and slap of skin against skin. In the clash of their kisses. Clint’s hands in Bucky’s hair and Bucky’s hand around Clint’s cock.

They fell over the edge, clinging to each other like they were each other’s ties to earth. Clint’s fingernails digging into Bucky’s skin and his come painting both their stomachs.

Bucky kissed him and kissed him again and kissed him again. Until their chests stopped heaving, and Clint blinked back into reality.

“Holy hell,” Clint breathed.

“Yep.” Bucky pressed one more kiss to his forehead before slowly pulling out. Clint winced and Bucky said, “Yeah, sorry. There’s really no way to make that not feel weird.”

“It’s fine,” Clint said, but it did feel weird. He felt so empty now. And just…exposed.

But mostly, he was exhausted.

Once he had taken care of the condom, Bucky reached for some tissues by the bed and began to clean them both up. Clint found himself drifting, close to falling asleep. Which was very unusual for him. It usually took a few rounds for him to feel like this.

He roused himself a bit when Bucky cleared his throat.

“You don’t have to, but if you want, I’d like it if you stayed here tonight,” Bucky said with a smile and carded his fingers through Clint’s hair. Clint hummed happily and leaned into the caress. “When I said I wanted you in my bed, I didn’t just mean for sex. I’m a big cuddler.”

“Don’t think I could make it home even if I wanted to,” Clint admitted, his mouth opening in a big yawn on the last word.

Bucky laughed and settled back down next to him, tossing one arm around Clint’s waist. “Good. Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

“My aids…” Clint mumbled, barely able to muster the energy to get the words out much less actually take out the hearing aids. But then gentle fingers were there, carefully removing the devices from his ears. He felt a press of lips against his brow just as he slipped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions, criticisms, and squeals always welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is over 4000 words of nothing but domestic fluff and smut. It's so gross, guys. What am I doing with my life?

          Gentle fingers running up and down his spine woke him slowly. He kept his eyes closed and his head turned away from Bucky as the fingers traveled lower and lower with each sweep up and down the spine. Until fingertips brushed over his sore hole, and he hissed involuntarily followed by a wrecked moan as his body reacted in expectation of pleasure those fingers might bring and memory of the pleasure from the night before.

           Clint flushed, knowing he must've sounded incredibly wanton, and hid his face in the pillow. The bed shifted as the fingers on his spine were replaced by lips, leaving a wet trail down his back.

           Then the bed shifted again and suddenly the lips and the fingers were gone. Clint looked up in surprise at the loss of contact to see Bucky standing by the side of the bed, wearing only black boxer briefs and his hair back in a bun on top of his head. Two fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke into a cell phone.

           Sitting up, Clint grabbed his hearing aids from the bedside table and put them on.

           "Yeah, no, I understand," Bucky was saying to the person on the other end. "Sure, Pep. See you soon."

           He hung up and dropped his phone on the table, running a hand over his face with a guilty expression.

           "Duty calls?" Clint asked, trying not to be disappointed.

           Bucky nodded grimly. "There's a merger... I didn't think it was going to go through until next week, but it just got sped up. I... I wish I could stay."

           He looked nervous. As if he expected Clint to be angry or storm off in a huff.

           Clint stood, touching Bucky's arm gently and saying, "it's fine, Bucky. I have to get to campus anyway. We still don't have wi-fi at the apartment, you know? So I've got use the internet on campus."

           Clint was reaching for his clothes as he spoke, but he only managed to pull his boxers back on before Bucky stopped him.

           "You could work here," he said. "I mean, if you want. I've probably got faster internet than what you could get on campus. And then if I can get away..."

           "Yeah? You don't mind me just hanging out?" Clint asked.

           "Not at all." Bucky stepped up in front of him and tipped Clint's head up with fingers under Clint's chin. Their lips slotted together naturally in a sweet, languid kiss. "You're welcome to anything I have, sweetheart."

           "Okay, yeah." Clint kissed him again because he couldn't seem to get enough. "I'll stick around then."

           "Good." Bucky pulled away reluctantly. "I have to get in the shower, but make yourself at home. Coffee and food in the kitchen, if you want it."

           Clint groaned. "Coffee, yes. That is a fantastic idea."

           He padded out to the kitchen in just his boxers, yawning widely as he searched out the coffee machine. It was a large contraption, sleek silver with a lot of buttons. Clint pressed one experimentally.

            It beeped back at him but nothing seemed to start. He pressed another button but nothing.

            He didn't think he'd been standing there that long pressing random buttons, but suddenly an arm was reaching over his shoulder, pressing a sequence of buttons that had the machine humming and spurting warm liquid into a mug.

            He squinted at the coffee maker, attempting to commit the sequence to memory. Warm lips pressed against his shoulder and strong arms wrapped around his waist. Clint leaned back into Bucky's chest as they watched the mug fill and sighed.

            "I think you might need to give me a tutorial on this thing."

            Bucky chuckled. "I've still got the manual around here somewhere, I think. I'll find it for you."

            Bucky handed the mug off to Clint once it was filled and pressed a few other buttons that had the machine starting up again.

            Clint took a sip of the too hot, but absolutely heavenly coffee and moaned appreciatively. "It may be super confusing, but that thing makes damn good coffee."

            "It should. It cost over a thousand dollars."

            "Holy shit," Clint said, turning to look back at Bucky. Who, Clint quickly realized, was perusing Clint's body with an admiring gaze. Clint blushed automatically, realizing that Bucky was now fully clothed in a perfectly fitted blue suit and Clint was still mostly naked.

            Bucky smirked and took a drink from his mug. "I could get used to this view in the mornings."

            Clint only blushed harder, dragging a hand through his already unruly hair, and looked away.

            Bucky leaned forward and kissed his cheek chastely. "But I've got to run or Pepper will have my ass. Maybe I'll see you when I get back?"

            "Yeah, um, I don't have any plans for today other than work on my thesis so... You know, if you want me... to be here, I mean. Then, yeah, I could..." Clint stammered only to be cut off by another kiss.

            "I definitely want you here," Bucky breathed against his lips and Clint's skin erupted in goosebumps.

            Clint nodded and leaned back in for another kiss. God, Bucky's lips were addictive. How was he supposed to live like a normal person now?

            He managed to keep Bucky there for a few more minutes before the man pulled away with a groan.

            "I'm leaving now," Bucky said determinedly.

            "Okay," Clint responded, biting his lip.

             Lust flashed in Bucky's eyes and he captured Clint's lips in one more heated kiss before dragging himself away. He walked to the elevator without a backwards glance.

            "Feel free to use the TV or whatever too," he called over his shoulder, as if turning back to Clint to say it would stop him from leaving.

            The smile on Clint's face didn't seem to want to fade as he finished his coffee and retrieved his bag in the living room.

            He got a call a couple of hours later from Natasha.

            “So?” She asked. “How’d it go? Give me some details, man.”

            “Um, it went well, I think. We, uh, I mean, I’m still at his apartment, so…”

            “What?!” She exclaimed. “You stayed the night? You’re still there?”

            Clint winced at her loud questions and held the phone slightly farther away from his ear. “Yeah, I stayed the night. So it was…you know, it was good.”

            “Good as in we had a good conversation and then I slept on the couch because it was late good? Or good as in _good_ good?” She asked.

            “That second one. Definitely.”

            He could practically hear Tasha’s smirk through the phone. “I knew it would be good.”

            “Yeah, yeah, you told me. Whatever.” He leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes to give them a rest after staring at the computer for the last few hours. “Look, we’re not gonna tell people yet. It’s…We just decided. We’re keeping it casual for now and seeing how it goes.”

            “You’re keeping it casual?”

            “Yep.”

            “And seeing how it goes?”

            “That’s what I said.” He could hear the skepticism in her voice as she repeated his words back to him. She was about to go all mother hen on him, he just knew it.

            “And that’s what you want? Or was it his idea?”

            Clint sighed. “Both, Tasha. I promise. He brought it up first because he said his last few relationships ended really badly, but I agreed because… Well, it’s a big deal, right? I mean, I just need to figure this out before I go around telling people that I guess I’m not as straight as I thought I was.”

            “You know none of our friends would care, right?”

            “I know that. I do. But it’s not for other people. It’s for me. To give me a chance to…get things right. In my head, I mean. Make sure I know where I stand before announcing it to the world.”

            Tasha didn’t respond, but he knew her well enough to know she wasn’t entirely convinced.

            “This is what I want, Tasha.” He said as earnestly as he could. “I swear, he’s not…Not trying to…there’s nothing sinister about this, okay? It’s better for both of us this way.”

            “Okay,” Tasha finally relented. “If you say so, but if I get so much as an inkling that he’s not treating you right…”

            Clint smiled, relieved. “I know, Tasha. You’ll kick his ass. I’ll be sure and warn him.”

            “You do that, kotyonok.”

            “You know, Bucky speaks Russian. I’m going to ask him what that means.” Clint threatened.

            “I know you’re not going to do that because you could just google it, and yet, you haven’t,” she responded dismissively.

            “Yeah, okay, you’re probably right.”

            “I always am. Lunch tomorrow after classes?”

            “Definitely.”

            Once they hung up, Clint figured it was time to take a break. He found some leftover pizza in the fridge and ate it without heating it up. It took a few minutes, but he managed to figure out the universal remote enough to turn on the TV and start an episode of Young Justice on Netflix.

            He woke up an hour later not realizing he’d fallen asleep on Bucky’s ridiculously comfortable couch.

            Groaning he sat up and watched the TV cycle through the generic landscape photos in its standby mode for a minute before shaking his head to clear it and opening his ancient laptop back up.

            As much as he enjoyed his work, he was really ready to be done with this thesis. It seemed never-ending.

            A few hours later, his stomach growled just as he heard the elevator doors open. He sat up from where he’d been slumped over on the couch, the laptop in his lap, reading over the same section over and over again. He knew _something_ was wrong with it; he just didn’t know _what_.

            Bucky came around the corner on his phone, looking as gorgeous as ever. His tie was loosened, the top buttons on his dress shirt undone, and his messy top knot even messier than normal. Clint felt like he had a cloud hanging over his head that dispersed the moment Bucky walked into the room. The visceral reaction shocked Clint to his bones and made him want to run and hide.

            Bucky grinned when he saw Clint on the couch.

            “Tony, I’m hanging up now,” he said into the phone. “No, Tony. I’ll see you tomorrow. _No,_ Tony. Goodbye. _Goodbye, Tony._ ”

            He hung up after the last “Goodbye, Tony” though Clint got the impression Tony hadn’t actually stopped speaking.

            “You’re still here,” Bucky said, the expression on his face telling Clint he was happy about that fact.

            “Yeah, your couch was too comfortable and I fell asleep, so I’m still trying to get this section done,” Clint told him.

            “Well, don’t let me stop you,” Bucky said, walking over and dropping a kiss onto Clint’s head. “You hungry? I’ll order us some food.”

            “Starving,” Clint said, not even trying to fight the grin on his face as he watched Bucky walk to the kitchen and search through a drawer of takeout menus.

             Once he had put in an order for food, Bucky dropped down onto the couch next to him and opened up his own laptop, methodically working his way through emails while Clint worked. Their knees were pressed together and occasionally their elbows would brush against each other. It was enough to keep Clint’s stomach full of butterflies.

            “Oh,” Bucky said suddenly after about half an hour. He reached for the messenger bag which had been slung over his shoulder when he walked in. “I picked something up for you. I almost forgot.”

            “For me?” Clint asked, surprised.

            Bucky pulled a black, glossy laptop from the bag and held it out to him. “Fresh off the line.”

            Clint gaped at the laptop. It was gorgeous. The Stark Industries logo was stamped on the back, and Clint could already tell it was going to be way lighter than the behemoth dinosaur he currently carried around.

            “I told you I would get you one,” Bucky said, raising an eyebrow.

            “Well, yeah, I mean…but…” Clint stammered.

            Bucky sighed and set the laptop down on the coffee table, taking Clint’s hands in his. “Clint, remember what we talked about last night? About how I like doing things for people I care about?”

            Clint nodded.

            “And how I expected you to be okay with it? Accept the things without making a big deal of it?”

            He nodded again.

            “Okay then.” Bucky picked up the laptop again and held it out to Clint. “Here.”

            Clint took it, holding it reverently. “Thanks, babe.”

            Bucky smiled and leaned in to press a light kiss on the corner of Clint’s mouth. “You’re welcome.”

            A chime sounded from Bucky’s phone, breaking the moment. Clint looked down at the laptop in his hands while Bucky retrieved his phone. Clint was pretty sure he had never held something so expensive in his hands before. Even new, Clint’s laptop wouldn’t have been anywhere near the worth of the piece of tech he was holding.

            “Food’s here,” Bucky said. “Be right back.”

            While Bucky went to get the food, Clint opened up the laptop and started going through the set up process. He had to admit, he assumed Bucky had forgotten about the laptop thing. People usually didn’t pay much attention to what Clint said.

            Oh god. This was ridiculous. He was having _feelings_ over the fact that Bucky remembered he had a crap laptop. What the hell was happening to him. If he continued the way he’d been going, he would end up just melting into a puddle of feelings goo before the month was up.

            Bucky came back up with enough food to feed a small army.

            Clint did his best to hide the slight emotional breakdown he’d been about to have over a laptop (a _really nice_ laptop) and filled a plate. Bucky lit up when he turned on the TV and saw that Clint had been watching Young Justice.

            “Holy shit!” he said. “This is one of my favorite shows.”

            “Right? It’s so good!” Clint responded, glad to have something else to focus on.

            Bucky nodded enthusiastically as he started up a new episode. “Steve bugged me to watch it for months after it went on Netflix before I finally did. Totally lived up to the hype too.”

            They ate and watched the show in companionable silence for a while before Clint started having _feelings_ again. This time it was over a TV show.

            It had been a long time since he’d felt so immediately comfortable and connected to another person. Other than Natasha, of course, but she was different. Bucky was different too. But in a different way than the way Natasha was different.

            Clint’s brain was starting to hurt.

            With every other person he had dated, even Bobbi at the beginning, Clint had never felt comfortable just sitting and being around a person. He always had to be talking or doing or something. But that wasn’t the case now, apparently.

            Sitting on the couch with Bucky casually felt just as right as kissing him had. Just as right as sleeping in Bucky’s bed and waking up to Bucky’s hands on him.

            God, the amount of _feelings_ he was having…

            When he finished eating, he slid across the couch and settled into Bucky’s side. Bucky wrapped and arm around his waist and kissed his forehead before turning back to the show. It was relaxing.

            A little while later, Bucky turned his head, pressed his nose into Clint’s hair, and closed his eyes.

            “I’m glad you stayed,” he murmured.

            A soft, small slid across Clint’s face. “Me too.”

            It felt incredibly natural to turn his head and press up into a kiss. Bucky’s lips moved against his in a slow, easy manner that somehow still managed to make Clint’s toes curl and senses go haywire.

            Bucky sucked Clint’s lower lip into his mouth and Clint moaned. He was absolute putty in the man’s hands.

            Bucky hummed happily in response, pulling back just a bit. “Love the sounds you make, sweetheart.”

            He gripped Clint’s chin between his fingers, holding Clint’s head still as he pushed his tongue into Clint’s mouth. When Bucky pushed lightly against his chest, Clint fell backwards against the couch easily, letting Bucky hover over him as the make out session became more heated.

            Clint untucked Bucky’s shirt, desperate to touch skin again. Clint swallowed Bucky’s moans as his hands ran up and over firm pectorals.

            “Can you stay the night again?” Bucky asked, barely pulling away enough to get the words out.

            Clint’s body screamed yes. He wanted to say yes so much.

            He shook his head. “I have an early class in the morning. I shouldn’t.”

            Bucky made a disappointed noise as his lips explored Clint’s throat. “Well, at least let me suck your dick before you go.”

            As soon as the words were out, he began moving down Clint’s body, pushing his shirt up under his armpits so his lips could trail directly over the skin. Clint bit back a moan when Bucky cupped him through his jeans.

            Bucky looked up and frowned before reaching up to pull Clint’s bottom lip out from between his teeth. “Don’t do that, sweetheart. I want to hear you.”

            Clint nodded and this time didn’t hold back when Bucky stroked him as well as he could with his pants still on.

            “So can I?” Bucky asked, pressing kisses just above Clint’s waistband.

            “Huh?” Clint asked, his brain fairly clouded because lips and hands and holy shit. He was fucked.

            “Can I suck you off?” He clarified, amusement clear in his voice.

            “Oh yeah. Yes. Please. Bucky,” Clint whimpered his name. He didn’t even have it in himself to be embarrassed anymore.

            Bucky made quick work of pulling Clint’s jeans down his thighs and stroking him to full hardness. Clint was whimpering and begging without any filter before Bucky even put his mouth on him.

            “Shit, Buck,” Clint groaned. “Don’t tease me.”

            Bucky grinned and licked his lips. “Well, if you insist.”

            He swallowed Clint down in one movement. Clint choked in surprise at the abrupt feeling of having his cock engulfed in the wet heat of Bucky’s mouth.

            “Shit, shit, shit,” he moaned as Bucky began to bob his head up and down, pausing every once in a while to suck on the head. Clint was on the edge in minutes, his muscles tensing.

            But Bucky pulled off suddenly and Clint cried out in frustration as the feeling subsided.

            “Sorry, sweetheart, sorry,” Bucky said as he pressed kisses onto Clint’s thigh. “Couldn’t help but tease you a little more.”

            “Asshole,” Clint gasped as Bucky began to stroke him again.

            Bucky chuckled and took him back in his mouth, one hand sliding down to fondle his balls, quickly working him back up. He seemed to offer an apology in the way he took Clint all the way down again, relaxing his jaw and throat and swallowing around him.

            “Fuck. Gonna come, Buck. Gonna…shit, babe.” Clint pulled at Bucky’s hair, not sure if Bucky heard his warning or not, but Bucky just hummed and took him deep again.

            The orgasm hit him like a freight train, knocking out all of his senses to focus on the pleasure as Bucky sucked him dry. When he came back down, Bucky was hovering over him on one elbow again, cock out, stroking himself quickly.

            “W-wait, let me try…” Clint started, but Bucky shook his head.

            “’S fine. Close already. Next time,” he said, his eyes closing as his hand sped up.

            “Well, at least let me…” Now that his faculties had fully returned, Clint pushed Bucky’s hand out of the way and took over working him towards his own orgasm.

            “A little tighter,” Bucky growled as his hips thrust into Clint’s fist. “That’s it. Shit, sweetheart.”

            Bucky tensed, and thick ropes of come shot out over Clint’s exposed stomach and chest. Once his hips had stopped their instinctual thrusting, Bucky let out a moan, one hand reaching up to slide through the mess on Clint’s stomach.

            “Fuck, sorry, sweetheart.” He kissed Clint’s forehead. “Lemme…” He kissed Clint’s cheek. “Let me get something to clean up…”

            “’S fine, Buck. Wait a minute.” Clint grabbed onto his arm to stop him from moving and caught Bucky’s lips with his own, pulling him into a deep kiss. Bucky sank into the kiss, his hand splaying out across Clint’s abs. It was a little weird, having another man’s come on him, but Clint didn’t think he’d be weirded out by much if it was Bucky doing it.

            Clint broke the kiss after a minute and Bucky bumped their noses together affectionately once, twice before smiling.

            “I’m going to get something to clean you up now,” he whispered.

            “Okay.”

            “Okay. Hold on. Don’t move.”

            Bucky clambered up off the couch and disappeared towards the kitchen area. Taking a deep breath, Clint smiled, feeling giddy and ridiculous. Well, that was an exceptionally fabulous blowjob. He could attribute the warm feeling in his bones to that for now. Not to anything more.

            A wet washcloth in hand, Bucky returned and cleaned him up almost reverently, stopping every once in a while to kiss his lips. Clint pulled his pants back up when he was done, but made no move to get off the couch.

            That seemed to suit Bucky just fine because he maneuvered the both of them so Clint was pressed back against his chest, their legs tangled together.

            “When are you free again?” Bucky asked, his lips brushing against the back of Clint’s neck.

            “Um,” Clint hesitated. As far as he knew, he didn’t have anything going on the next evening, but would it seem needy to say tomorrow? Tuesdays and Thursdays were always out because those were his busiest days. Wednesday wasn’t great either, but he could probably make it work. “Wednesday?”

            Bucky hummed. “I just remembered I have to go to LA on Wednesday and Thursday. Friday?”

            Clint shook his head. “Drinks with Sam and Tasha. If we don’t want people to get suspicious…”

            “Right,” Bucky said. “I don’t want to take away from your time with your other friends anyway, sweetheart. I wouldn’t ask you to ditch them for me.”

            “Saturday?” Clint suggested.

            “I have an SI event that’ll take up most the day. I could maybe sneak away by 11?” Bucky said, not sounding too pleased with the idea.

            “If you have to work… It’s fine, we can work something else out.”

            Bucky sighed, pressing a kiss to his neck. “No, I just…I want to actually spend time with you, but…” He sat up suddenly, running a hand through his hair, which was more out of the hair tie than in it at this point. “This is what I was talking about Clint. This is why none of my relationships ever work. I can’t promise that it’s ever not going to be like this, and I don’t…I don’t want to make you sit around for me.”

            “Bucky, stop,” Clint said, taking Bucky’s hand and tugging him back down so they were facing each other now. “I’m happy to get any time with you. It sucks, but we can make it work.”

            Bucky kissed him, cutting off anything else he would’ve said. When he pulled back, his face was grim. “Everyone says that at first, Clint. It’s okay if you change your mind about all of this. It’s not even worth the hassle.”

            Clint felt a surge of anger. “That’s bullshit, babe. It is worth it. You’re worth it. So don’t try to fucking tell me to just give up without even really trying.”

            Bucky seemed surprised, but he nodded in acceptance and reciprocated when Clint kissed him again. They chased away the uncertainty of the future by losing themselves in each other for a few minutes.

            “I should get going,” Clint finally said, shifting to get off the couch.

            For a second, Bucky’s hold didn’t loosen, but then he sighed and let Clint get up. Clint shifted his clothes to be back in place.

            “I’ll text you, okay?” Clint said as he packed away his old computer and his new one. “We’ll work something out. If nothing else, I’ll come over late on Saturday and we’ll sleep in the same bed. Better than nothing.”

            Bucky nodded, seeming to not know what to say as he watched Clint gather up his things.

            When Clint was all ready to go, Bucky stood, stealing one more kiss and saying, “Text me when you get home so I know you got there okay?”

            Clint snorted in amusement, but agreed.

            He retreated to the elevator and took a deep breath. Almost twenty-four hours had passed since he first rode that elevator and so much had changed. It boggled his mind.

            As asked, he texted Bucky as soon as he got home.

            _Bucky: Miss you already_

“Oh, hey, Clint,” Steve said, coming out of his room in paint splattered jeans. “What’ve you been up to? I haven’t seen you all day.”

            “Just, you know, visiting a friend,” Clint responded to which he received a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

            “Did your “friend” give you that hickey on your neck?” Steve asked.

            “Um…yes.” Clint decided to go with honesty on this one.

            “Good for you, man.”

            If only you knew, Clint thought.

            _Clint: Miss u too_

            He sent a picture of his lonely bed with a sad face.

            When his phone chimed again, it was a picture of Bucky, head resting on a pillow with his eyes closed.

            _Bucky: Just put this next to you_

_Clint: Itll do but not as good as th real thing_

Bucky sent back a smiley face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the ridiculously massive delay on this. Holidays and family and working retail during the holidays meant no time or energy for writing.
> 
> [I found some pictures of CFO Bucky and posted them on my Tumblr.](http://awrites.tumblr.com/post/156034528822/found-some-pictures-of-cfo-bucky-for-my-modern-au) Follow me while you're there, if you wanna.
> 
> Comments and kudos and squeals always appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took way longer than it should have to write. It fought me, guys. Also currently fighting me is my thesis, so Clint and I have that in common and is another reason it took so long to get this chapter out.   
> Also, I've realized after changing the number of chapters several times, I have no idea how long this story is going to be because nothing ends up being as long as I expect it to be, so just ignore that estimate for now and I'll keep you updated.  
> Sorry for any typos.  
> Enjoy!

The week somehow passed both quickly and agonizingly slowly for Clint. He managed to finish up one of his chapters and get approval from his director for the final draft, which was a huge relief. Though that still left him needing to complete 3 more chapters and the conclusion. But a win was a win.

Bucky seemed eager to keep in touch, texting Clint every day about anything and everything. Clint had to fight a smile every time he woke up to a good morning text or got one lamenting another meeting. One of the nights Bucky was in California he called and talked Clint to an amazing orgasm, promising an even better one Saturday night.

If he was being completely honest, the time away from Bucky gave Clint space to think through everything that had happened, which he definitely needed. Mostly, he just needed to get used to the idea of having a boyfriend, or whatever they were, and not thinking of himself as straight. One day, on a bright, nicely cool fall afternoon, he sat outside the library and people watched. Primarily, he watched guys and tried to determine if his interactions with Bucky changed his attitude towards men in general. He came out of the experiment admitting to himself that a few of the guys did spark his interest in a way that was more than pure aesthetic appreciation. He also noticed that most of those guys looked somewhat like Bucky.

It was progress, though, getting to the point where he could acknowledge that the admiration he felt for some men's physiques was more than he had thought it was, and he felt good about it. Still, none of them held a candle to Bucky.

He seriously considered feigning tiredness and skipping out early on Friday night drinks. Bucky's flight had gotten in from California early that morning, and Clint wasn't sure he was going to make it another 24 hours to see Bucky. But it was almost as if Tasha could read his mind (she totally could) and kept glaring at him every time he came close to opening his mouth and making an excuse. So he forced himself to wait.

Natasha dragged him along to a conference on campus first thing the next morning. She said that since he was spending Saturday night and, presumably, most of Sunday with Bucky that she got Saturday morning/afternoon with him. After sitting through a couple of talks, which were, admittedly, very interesting even if they were too damn early for a Saturday morning, they went to lunch. He got a text from Bucky just as they sat down to eat.

_Bucky: knowing I get to see you tonight is the only thing thats getting me through this day_

_Clint: Im counting the hours_

Bucky sent back a kissing face, and Clint blushed, not even trying to fight back the giddy smile on his face.

After lunch, they both went to Clint's and worked on grading and other school things. After about an hour there, he got another text.

_Bucky: my plan is to leave the event at 11 but I'll let you know if it's going to be later._

It had already been kind of a long day. Clint thought about taking a nap, but the papers he was grading were taking way longer than he had anticipated (it was like no one ever taught the little baby undergrads how to write an argumentative research paper) so he wasn't sure if he would have time. By the time he got to the end of the stack, he had resorted to just writing "no" in the margin next to everything that was wrong. At least he finished reading the papers, on the really bad ones Natasha liked drawing a line and writing "this is where I stopped reading" before tossing the paper aside. Fury was a hardass grader so he didn't give a fuck if they were too.

He finally got through with the stack around 7, but needed to do a little reading to prepare for a new draft of his next thesis chapter. If he read for an hour or two, he'd still have time for a little cat nap before heading over to Bucky's. That's what he told himself.

In reality, he lost track of time reading and jumped up at ten to shower and get ready. Natasha just rolled her eyes and sipped a beer as he ran around the apartment cursing his lateness. He brushed a kiss to her cheek as he ran out, only to circle back for his keys just before the door shut on him. Natasha was holding them up in the air between two fingers and didn't even spare Clint a glance as he grabbed them and ran out again.

He still managed to beat Bucky to his apartment, but he felt exhausted when he dropped onto the couch to wait. Next thing he knew, Bucky was touching his shoulder and smiling gently down at him.

"I fell asleep," he said. Or tried to say. It came out as a barely intelligible groan.

"C'mon," Bucky said, pulling Clint up and off the couch. "Let's get you to the actual bed so you can sleep comfortably."

Clint swayed into Bucky, the residual sleepiness weighing him down.

"No, no," Clint protested. "I want to talk to you and do _things_ with you."

He made a fumbling attempt at groping Bucky's chest, but Bucky just laughed, catching his hand and pressing a kiss to the palm.

            “We’ve got time tomorrow to do _things._ ” Keeping Clint’s hand in his, he started pulling him towards the bedroom. Clint didn’t protest too much. He was really fucking tired. “Unless you have somewhere to be?”

            “Nope. No. Got nowhere t’be,” Clint said, letting Bucky push him down on the bed and start pulling off his clothes.

            “Good,” Bucky replied when Clint’s head appeared back out from under his shirt. “Sleep now. Sexy times tomorrow.”

            “’kay,” Clint said, but he wasn’t really paying attention anymore because he had finally realized that Bucky was still in his tuxedo from the event. He looked even more mouthwatering then normal. Clint grabbed onto Bucky’s sleeve when he finished removing Clint’s pants and stood back up.

            “Kiss me?” Clint asked a bit shyly, his face heating up.

            “Of course.” Bucky leaned over Clint, clearly intending the kiss to be quick, but Clint caught the back of his neck and held him there, deepening the kiss enthusiastically. Smiling against Clint’s insistent lips, Bucky reached up and moved Clint’s hand from his neck so he could pull back.

            “You’re the one who said last week that even if we just got to sleep next to each other, it would be enough.” Bucky’s eyes were amused and full of affection as he leaned in for another kiss that he managed to keep chaste and sweet this time. Clint huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, not appreciating having his own words used against him but too tired to really fight back. Bucky laughed again at Clint’s childish pouting. “Take your aids out and lay down. I’m going to change then I’ll be back.”

            Clint deflated. He really did want to sleep. Bucky turned towards his large walk-in closet.

            “I missed you, Buck,” Clint said, barely louder than a mumble.  

            Turning back towards the bed, his bowtie now hanging loose around his neck, Bucky smiled happily and with something like wistfulness. “I missed you too, sweetheart. And I’m going to cuddle you so hard tonight. Then tomorrow I’m going to fuck you into the mattress. Okay?”

            Clint swallowed and nodded. God, if only he had taken a nap that afternoon.

            He did as he was told, taking out his aids and slipping under the covers on one side of the bed. From that position, he could see Bucky in the closet changing. He watched until he couldn’t hold his eyes open anymore, and he was barely awake enough to feel Bucky slide into bed behind him and pull him into a tight embrace.

 

            Clint woke slowly the next morning. He had slept well. Really well. Bucky’s bed was awesome. The blankets felt like clouds. Blinking against the brightness, he opened his eyes, having the sudden sense that he had slept way longer than he usually does.

            Bucky was sitting up next to Clint, leaning back against the headboard. He had his laptop in his lap, typing away at an email probably, but when he felt Clint’s scrutiny, he turned and smiled. Then, to Clint’s surprise, he lifted his hands and signed ‘good morning.’ It took a minute for him to recover from his surprise, but when he did he signed it back with what he was sure was a ridiculously smitten grin on his face.

            Bucky closed the laptop and set it on the side table before leaning over and kissing Clint once, twice. It escalated into a full on make out session with Clint being pressed back into the mattress and Bucky’s promise from the night before swirling in his mind.

            Before they could make it that far, though, Clint turned his head away from Bucky’s lips and said, “wait, wait. I want…”

            Bucky had pulled back as soon as Clint stopped the kissing and it only took him a moment to realize Clint was reaching for his hearing aids. He grabbed them and handed them off for Clint to situate into his ears.

            “You didn’t tell me you knew sign,” Clint said once he had the aids in, at the same time reaching for Bucky and pulling him close again.

            “Uh, I don’t really,” Bucky replied, placing himself between Clint’s legs with a smile. “I mean, I just started learning. I’ve got a tutor.”

            Clint was grinning like a fool, but he couldn’t help it. Bucky was learning sign for him. “Well, I know someone else who would be very willing to help you practice whenever you want.”

            “Oh yeah?” Bucky, too, had a sappy smile on his face as he nosed gently at Clint’s jaw and throat. “Do I know this person?”

            “I think you’ve met him a time or two.” Clint let his eyes fall closed as Bucky’s lips began exploring his throat. 

            Bucky abandoned his exploration and captured Clint’s lips with his own again, slow and deep and intensely passionate. Clint felt like he was drowning in the best way. He groaned into the kiss when Bucky circled his hips, pressing against Clint teasingly. In retaliation, Clint hooked one leg over Bucky’s hip, holding them tightly together. He could feel Bucky’s cock filling against his hip as the man sunk teeth into his bare shoulder.

            “God, sweetheart,” Bucky mumbled, circling his hips again and trailing wet kisses across Clint’s chest. “Couldn’t think about anything but this all week. Sat in meetings just thinking about getting my hands on you.”

            He closed his lips around Clint’s nipple and sucked, pulling a cracked moan from Clint’s lips.

            “Me too, Buck. Christ, me too. Missed you so much. Missed your hands, your lips. Everything. God, Buck, everything.” Clint rambled as Bucky mapped his skin thoroughly with teeth and soft lips, his hands sinking into Bucky’s hair and holding tight.

            Clint couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to let go so thoroughly in the presence of another person. Even during sexual encounters, it wasn’t like this. He didn’t ramble nonsense, didn’t melt at a single kiss, or shiver at one touch. But everything was more intense with Bucky, and Clint had completely lost control of his reactions.

            Bucky made good on his promise, turning Clint onto his stomach and fucking him into the mattress after stretching him with fingers and tongue. By the time Bucky finally pushed into Clint’s body, he had been begging for it without shame.

            Clint hadn’t experienced anything in the world that equaled the way he felt when Bucky was inside of him. The way Bucky rocked his hips, pushing into the deepest parts of him, the places no one else had touched before, made Clint’s understanding of reality slip for a bit. It should’ve scared him. Anything remotely this intimate would’ve have sent him running in the past. But the intimacy was overlaid with an amount of trust Clint hadn’t had in anybody since he was a kid and followed his brother to Carson’s.

            It was the trust that really allowed him to let go. To put himself in Bucky’s hands and know that even if he fell apart, Bucky would put the pieces back together.

            Bucky’s body blanketed all the way over his at the same time that Bucky’s thrusts lost a bit of rhythm. Pressing his hips back against Bucky’s, Clint gave into his instincts, talking Bucky through an orgasm that had his arms shaking with the effort of holding him up over Clint.

            Before the aftershocks of his orgasm had even subsided, Bucky flipped Clint onto his back and took his cock in one hand, stroking quickly as their mouths met in a messy clash.

            Clint came with a wrecked whine, his body convulsing and vision blurring for a moment. When his surroundings came back to him, Bucky was still above him, holding himself up on his elbows and leaving a trail of light kisses on Clint’s skin.

             “Breakfast?” He asked, lifting his head for a moment before nipping at Clint’s collarbone.

            Clint made an affirmative noise as his hands stroked gently at Bucky’s sides. “Coffee?”

            “I have coffee,” Bucky said, still making no move to actually get out of the bed.

            In that moment it felt as if they existed in a bubble. The world outside was just background noise, and everything real and significant was contained in the large bed. Or maybe just in the space between their bodies.

            The bubble was abruptly broken when Clint’s stomach made a loud, gurgling noise. Bucky laughed as Clint’s face turned red.

            Placing one last kiss on Clint’s lips, Bucky said, “Okay. Breakfast.”

            The view as Bucky got up was so good that Clint momentarily forgot about his stomach again until Bucky threw a shirt and pair of boxers at him.

            They ate breakfast in quiet contentment. Occasionally, one of them would reach for the other, just to touch for a moment, as a reminder that they were there and they were happy together. Despite Clint’s worries nothing had changed between them now that their friendship had evolved into something more. Talking was just as easy as it had been, and now their conversations had the bonus of the occasional kiss or caress.

            “Oh, I got you something,” Bucky said when they were stretched out on the couch watching TV a few hours later and then disappeared back into his room.

            When he reemerged, he was holding a gorgeous black leather jacket with the tags still on it. Clint only gaped at him when he held out the jacket. Honestly, he hadn’t really expected the presents Bucky had threatened him with that first night. It seemed absurd that someone would just want to buy him things just because.

            “I can’t wear that,” Clint said. The computer had been one thing. It was functional, and he had needed it. This was nothing but pure luxury. “It’s beautiful.”

            “It’ll look amazing on you. I saw it and knew you needed it.” Bucky shoved it into his hands. He ran his fingers over the supple leather, not at all able to contain his awe. How was this his life now?

            “I have jackets,” Clint protested weakly, already slipping the jacket over his arms.

            Bucky raised an eyebrow incredulously. “Without a hole in it?”

            Clint opened his mouth to say that he did only to realize in a split second that he actually did not. Ever since the pocket of his threadbare pea coat had fallen off, taking a bunch of stitching with it so that the fabric was left with a gaping hole. That had been his last good coat, but he hadn’t gotten too cold yet so he hadn’t bothered to find another one at the thrift store yet. It was on his list though.

            Bucky took his silence as answer and said, “it’s a gift, Clint. Just take it. And I was right, it does look amazing on you.”

            The jacket fit him like a glove. The fabric stretching nicely over his muscular shoulders and then slimming along with his torso almost as if it had been made to his exact dimensions.

            Bucky traced the collar with his finger before grabbing on to it and pulling so that he could close the distance between them. The soft lips sufficiently distracted Clint from any other objections he might have had to the extravagant gift; though he did consciously resolve to not look at the price tag.

            The kiss devolved into a lazy make-out session which eventually led to sloppy blowjobs with Clint working under Bucky’s careful direction, having never had a dick in his mouth before. It wasn’t as unpleasant as he expected, and he liked the way Bucky squirmed and whined and said, “just like that, sweetheart. Ju-ah ah. Fuck.” It was an intoxicating feeling to have Bucky under his control like that, and he planned on repeating it until he learned all of the noises he could coax out of the other man.

            Before he knew it, they had wasted away the whole day and he had to head home. If Bucky lived closer to campus, he could have justified staying over again. But the ridiculously long subway ride that would’ve been awaiting him in the morning was just barely enough motivation to make him go home instead.         

            They made plans to see each other again on Wednesday night. Clint didn’t have anything early Thursday morning so he could stay over and hang around that side of town until the morning rush on the subways passed.

            Natasha raised her eyebrows at his new jacket when he got to class on Monday, but offered no commentary. Clint was grateful for that small mercy.

            Monday and Tuesday passed, and Clint found himself in a work slump. Anytime he sat down with the intention to be productive and get things done on his thesis, he came out of the session feeling like he had accomplished nothing thanks to research rabbit holes and a general brain block when it came to writing. It was frustrating as hell.

            Wednesday wasn’t any better, and he found himself looking forward even more to having a relaxing evening with Bucky and not worry about school for a few hours. Just a little escape from reality in the middle of the week.

            But then, of course, before he knew it, it was almost 10pm, and he was standing in an animal hospital and he was bleeding. Or maybe that wasn’t his blood? It was probably the dog. Or it could be both. There was an awful lot of blood wherever it was coming from. He was pretty sure someone was talking to him. He looked up and into the eyes of the desk assistant.

            “Your phone is ringing,” her lips said.

            Clint blinked and then felt the vibration against his leg. He pulled out the phone in a daze and hit the button to accept the call without even looking at the caller id.

            “Clint?” came a voice through the phone when he answered.

            “Bucky?” Clint asked, recognizing the voice. Suddenly, everything came back into focus. He head hurt and his arm hurt and his clothes were ripped and Bucky was on the phone. “Oh god, Bucky. I-I’m so sorry. I was on my way and then-then… Shit, I should’ve called, but the dog and-God,  I feel terrible, Buck. I’m so sorry…”

            “Slow down, Clint,” Bucky said, cutting him off in a patient but confused tone. “What is going on? Where are you?”

            “I’m at the hospital,” Clint said.

            “What? Why? Are you okay? What hospital…” There was a frantic rustling on Bucky’s end of the line.

            “I mean, not the actual… the animal hospital.” Clint clarified quickly. “I’m at the animal hospital. No the… people hospital.”

            “Oh. Oh,” Bucky said, sounding like he was taking a deep breath. “You scared the shit out of me. Why are you at the animal hospital?”

            Clint blinked. Then it all came back to him. “There were these guys, Bucky, and this dog and they were beating it up in an alley. I tried to stop them from attacking the dog, but then they attacked _me_ , but then the dog attacked _them_ and I couldn’t just leave it there. I couldn’t, Buck. It could barely stand when once they ran off and…”

            “Okay. Okay, sweetheart,” Bucky said soothingly. “What hospital are you at? I’m going to come to you.”

            Clint gave him the address and hung up, losing time for a bit while he waited for them to finish with the dog and for Bucky to get there. Why did this kind of shit always happen to him?

            It wasn’t long before Bucky pushed through the front doors of the animal hospital. He made a beeline for Clint, but Clint couldn’t find the energy to rise out of his chair, no matter how happy he was to see Bucky there. He must’ve looked even worse than he thought because Bucky’s face drained of color when he got a good look at Clint.

            “Shit,” Bucky said, kneeling down in front of Clint and reaching his hands out towards Clint without actually touching, probably because he was worried about agitating an injury which could have been anywhere on Clint’s body. “How much of this is your blood?”

            Clint shook his head and winced when that made it hurt even worse. “I honestly do not know.”

            “Okay. Okay.” Bucky licked his lips, clearly trying to figure out what to do, and set his hand down on Clint’s knee carefully. After a moment, he seemed to come to a decision. “Okay. Wait here. I’m going to see what’s happening with the dog.”

            Clint nodded absently and that made his head hurt too. Best to just stop moving his head altogether, he figured, so his gaze stayed fixed on the ground in front of him as Bucky stood and made his way to the desk area. Clint passingly thought he wished he could’ve watched him walk away. Bucky had a great ass.

            A few minutes later, by Clint’s best estimate, Bucky returned and touched Clint’s shoulder. It hurt, and Clint flinched, which made his ribs hurt and made it hard to breathe.

            Bucky let out a string of curse words in different languages.

            “I’m taking you to a hospital,” Bucky said, once again letting his hands hover in the air as if he wanted to touch Clint, but was too scared to.

            “A people hospital?” Clint asked, a smile crossed his lips even as he continued to wheeze in pain.

            “Yeah, a people one.” Bucky replied, and Clint could hear the exasperated amusement in his voice. “Can you stand?”

            “We’ll find out,” Clint said before pushing himself upwards in one go. He found that he could stand. It hurt his ribs to do it, but there seemed to be nothing really wrong with his legs, which was one small mercy in the midst of this disaster.

            Bucky guided him towards the door with a hand just barely resting on the small of his back, ready to catch him if he stumbled.

            “The dog?” Clint asked as Bucky opened the door for him.

            “They’re going to have to keep him at least overnight, so I said I’d come back to check on him tomorrow.” Bucky opened the passenger door of his car, which he had definitely parked illegally, but Clint couldn’t find the motivation to give him crap for it. “He’s taken care of, so we’re going to get you taken care of.”

            Clint managed to drop down into the seat of the car with only debilitating pain rather than crippling. He had no idea how he’d managed to carry the dog to the animal hospital in this condition.

            His eyes dropped closed as Bucky got in the other side and started the car. Bucky was still talking to him, telling him to stay awake. He figured Bucky probably knew what was best so he should probably do that. But it was hard. He was really tired. And everything hurt. And he just wanted to sleep.

            He groaned as he was lifted out of the car, but then he was set on something soft. A bed? Then the bed started moving.

            He managed to open his eyes long enough to watch a hospital entrance sign pass over his head and Bucky’s face walking along beside him. God, he was beautiful. Clint was going to be very upset if he, like, died or something from this.

            “Text Tasha,” he managed to get out before the world faded to darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, kudos, criticisms, and squeals always greatly appreciated.
> 
> I found some pictures of graduate student Clint and [posted them over on my Tumblr](http://awrites.tumblr.com/post/157188806697/graduate-student-clint-for-my-winterhawk-modern). Follow me while you're there if you wanna.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-chapter disclaimers:   
> A) ALWAYS CHECK THE LABEL BEFORE DRINKING WHILE ON MEDICATION OR ASK YOUR DOCTOR  
> 2\. Brief mentions of torture and rape below (more details in end notes so check that before reading if you're worried)  
> III-Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. Also, sorry about the lack of smut. There's lots of feelings though, so don't hate me too much.

            Clint blinked his eyes open under a blinding white light. Everything was covered in a quiet fuzziness that meant his hearing aids were gone and a gentle numbness from whatever drugs they had put him on. Slowly, he turned his head to the side. Tasha was sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair, a phone in her hand, but her head lifted, considering Clint carefully.

            “Bucky?” Clint asked.

            “He went to check on the dog,” Tasha signed along with her words.

            “Oh.” Right the dog. He had kind of forgotten for a moment. “That’s good. He’s a good dog.”

            “He said he would come back right after,” she added.

            “Oh, good. That’s good.” Clint couldn’t seem to think of anything else to say, but the thought that Bucky would rush back for him filled him with a silly kind of giddiness even through the haze of medicine and pain.

            He let his eyes slip closed again. He may have fallen asleep or maybe he opened them again right after. Nothing felt very clear at the moment. Either way, Tasha was still sitting there when he turned again, still watching him and seeming to wait for something. Maybe an explanation. The problem was that Clint had no explanation. Then she reached towards the table next to his bed and picked up the little box that held his hearing aids. Clint hadn’t noticed it sitting there. She helped him slip them into his hears before settling back into her chair, which Clint now noticed was covered in a garish pink, floral cloth.

            “Thanks,” Clint said, and then waved vaguely towards his bruised and bandaged body. “What’s the verdict?”

            “You have a pretty serious concussion and a few badly bruised ribs. Other than that, everything is pretty superficial. You’ll be up and driving Fury crazy again in no time.” She was purposefully making it sound better than it probably was while also attempting to be totally truthful. It was a hard line to walk, but Clint could read between the lines.

            “Could’ve been worse.”

            “I didn’t know I was your emergency contact.”

            “Who else?”

            She shrugged, conceding the point.

            The hospital room door opened and Bucky walked through, a bag of takeout in his hand.

            “You’re awake,” he said, sounding surprised but pleased.

            Clint grinned, but knew he probably looked drugged out of his mind. Because he was drugged out of his mind, thank god. He couldn’t imagine how much pain he would be in without the drugs.

            “Rethinking this whole arrangement now that you see I really am a human disaster?” Clint asked.

            “Not at all,” Bucky responded without hesitation. His suit was a bit rumpled, and it struck Clint suddenly that it was the same suit he had been wearing the night before and that Bucky had spent the night at the hospital.

            “The dog?” Tasha interjected as she dug through the bag of food and set it out on the wheel-y table next to the bed.

            “They’re going to keep him another day until we can figure out what to do with him and actually take care of him.” Bucky pulled another chair over from the corner of the room and sat down next to Tasha, reaching for a container only to get his hand slapped by Tasha who was carefully plating three plates with a little bit of everything.

            “Figure out what to do?” Clint questioned, not understanding.

            “Well, he can’t stay with you,” Bucky said. “Steve’s allergic. So I’m thinking at this point that he’ll stay with me until you can take him.”

            “I’m not-I don’t,” Clint stammered, thoroughly confused at this point. Had he missed something? Who decided he was keeping the dog? Just because he had saved him from those assholes didn’t mean he could care for a living thing.

            Tasha raised an eyebrow at him, momentarily pausing in her quest to perfectly divide the food. “Were you not planning to keep the dog?”

            “I…” Clint looked back and forth between Tasha and Bucky. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it? I just saw what they were doing and reacted. It all happened so fast, you know?”

            Bucky considered him for a moment before saying, “they said at the vet that he’s too old to be a popular adoption choice. People usually go for puppies, you know? And he lost an eye during the fight. They said if he goes to a shelter, he’ll probably be put down.”

            Clint sputtered. That was awful. He was a good dog.

            “I guess I’m keeping him, then,” he grumbled.

            Bucky nodded once. “Then he’ll stay at my place for now. We can figure everything else out later. When you’re better.”

            “Speaking of which,” Clint said, picking up a fork and spearing a piece of chicken on the plate Tasha had pushed in front of him. “How long do I have to stay here.”

            “Probably another twenty-four hours,” Tasha responded. “They want to keep an eye on your concussion. Make sure you’re not going to keel over and die the second you stand, you know?”

            “Yeah, that would be bad, I suppose,” Clint mused.

            “Very bad,” Bucky agreed.

            A little after they had polished off the rest of the food, a nurse came in and checked all the machines he was attached to, adjusted the amount of drugs he was getting, and asked him a bunch of questions. Everything must’ve come out fine, because the nurse checked something on his clipboard and excused himself.

            Tasha left not long after that, but Bucky stayed, pulling out his phone and sorting through emails while Clint rested, watching him work.

            “You don’t have to stay, you know,” Clint said, suddenly feeling vulnerable and uncertain. “If you, like, have to go to work or whatever. You don’t have to stay here with me. I’ll be fine.”

            Bucky looked at him over the top of the phone. “Do you want me to go?”

            “No, of course not,” Clint protested.

            “Then I’m staying. I told everyone that I would be available through email only today. It’s not something I can get away with often, and more than likely I’ll get a call from Pepper at some point, but this was more important.”

            Clint nodded and swallowed thickly. “Thanks, Buck.”

            “Get some rest, Clint.”

            He did just that. He slept for another eight hours, interrupted at regular intervals by nurses checking that he hadn’t died. Bucky was there every time he woke up, still working and wearing the crumpled suit.

            The next morning, the doctor came in and confirmed that he was all set to be discharged as long as there was going to be someone to keep an eye on him for a few days and he agreed to taking it easy for a while. Clint just agreed with everything the doctor said because he was dying to get out of there. Bucky was the one who listened carefully to the doctor’s instructions while Clint struggled back into real clothes that Tasha had brought from his apartment. Apparently, Tasha had told Steve what happened and said that Clint was going to be staying at her place for a few days while he recovered. In reality, there was an unspoken agreement that Clint was going to Bucky’s.

            Clint thought this was silly. He was fine and didn’t need a babysitter. And Bucky needed to work anyway. Tasha and Bucky gave him twin unimpressed looks when he expressed his thoughts on the matter.

            “I will go to work,” Bucky said, “but I work closer to where I live than Natasha does, or Steve for that matter, so I’ll be able to get to you easier if you need something.”

            Clint huffed, but didn’t argue anymore, allowing himself to be wheeled out in a chair to Bucky’s car in the parking lot. Bucky had scheduled for them to pick up the dog on their way back to his place, too. Apparently, the poor bastard had broken a leg on top of losing an eye, so he’d be laid up along with Clint.

            Bucky disappeared into the animal hospital and came back out with the dog, tongue lolling out of its mouth, carefully clutched in his arms.

            “You’re going to have to think of a name for him,” Bucky said as he started the car back up again. “They asked me for the forms and I didn’t know. I just told them to put down ‘Clint’s dog’.”

            Clint looked back over the seat at the dog in the back. He took in the shaggy fur, the missing eye, slobbery tongue, and tail that was just barely thumping up and down against the leather of the car. He wasn’t a terribly remarkable dog. All dogs were cute, so he was cute, of course. But other than that, pretty average.

            “How about pizza dog?”

            “What?”

            “For the name. I found him outside of a pizza place.”

            Bucky’s face was the picture of confusion and incredulity. “That’s a terrible name.”

            Clint huffed and flopped back in his seat so he was facing the front, jostling his ribs painfully in the process. “Fine. Lucky, then.”

            “That’s better than pizza dog, I suppose.”

            “You name him then!”

            Bucky’s face broke out in an affectionate and indulgent grin. Clint fought back a blush when he saw it.

            “No, no,” Bucky said as he pulled into the garage under his building. “Lucky is fine. We’ll go with Lucky.”

            Clint grumbled good-naturedly and followed Bucky and the dog to the elevator with only a little bit of dizziness. When they got upstairs, Bucky ordered Clint a pizza and waited for it to arrive before apologizing that he had to run to the office for a little while and promising to be back as soon as he could. Clint almost protested based on the dark circles under Bucky’s eyes and that Clint didn’t know if he had slept since taking Clint to the hospital, but he hesitated because it wasn’t really his place. They hadn’t reached that level yet, and he was sure Bucky wouldn’t appreciate him intruding on his life like that. So Clint just waved him off, set up comfortably on the couch with the dog and the TV on. He shared the pizza with the dog, because he was a pizza dog after all, and fell asleep there on the couch.

            The next few days really weren’t that bad, actually. Sure, he was bored out of his mind. But at least Bucky was there when he wasn’t working. Bucky, because he was an angel, front-loaded all his meetings in the mornings so that he could work from home for the most part in the afternoons. It kept Clint from going out of his mind.

            Bucky didn’t get too annoyed with his whining and grumbling, either. Just occasionally kindly asked him to shut the fuck up, but it was always said with a little bit of affection and exasperation that took most of the bite out of the words.

            And when he wasn’t complaining or kicking Bucky’s ass at video games, Clint actually had a lot of time to work on his thesis, getting out ahead of some deadlines with outlining and brainstorming that would make the actual writing process go much smoother. All in all, he couldn’t complain. A nice little break from life without even really being _that_ hurt. They could even have sex if they were careful about Clint’s ribs.

            Natasha had shown up the first day with plenty of clothes for him, and Bucky cleared out a drawer for him to use, which made Clint’s heart flutter but also kind of made him want to barf. It seemed so official. But it was just for a few days, right? Until he got better and then he would take the stuff back to his place.

            The only hitch was the night after Clint came back from the hospital. After a spectacular if-you-ever-get-yourself-hurt-like-this-again-I’ll-kill-you blowjob from Bucky, they’d passed out. Bucky fell asleep almost immediately, confirming Clint’s suspicions that he had been exhausted, and Clint followed quickly.

            Only to be woken up a few hours later by Bucky thrashing around in the bed, the look on his face terrified of whatever he was seeing in his dreams. Clint reached for his hearing aids, but before he could even get them on, Bucky jerked awake, chest heaving, eyes wide as they searched the room for threats. His eyes eventually landed on Clint before squeezing shut again as Bucky sat upwards and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He dropped his head into his hands between his knees as his breathing slowed.

            Clint watched for a minute, confused and at a loss for what to do. Bucky looked so lost in those moments before he registered Clint’s presence. Finally, Clint gave into his protective instinct and scooted across the bed until he could plaster himself to Bucky’s back, arms wrapped around the man’s waist, and face pressed into his neck.

            Bucky gripped one of his hands and wrapped it around his own so Clint could feel the shape of his fist before rotating both hands in clockwise motions on his chest.

            Then before Clint could say anything, Bucky twisted out of his arms, leaned back against the pillows, and pulled Clint down against his chest. Clint went, not sure what Bucky had been apologizing for, not sure what was happening, and not sure what he should do now.

            After a quiet moment of listening to Bucky’s heartbeat, Clint felt Bucky’s hand brush over the ear that wasn’t pressed to his chest, as if checking to see if his hearing aid was there before he dropped it to rub up and down Clint’s spine.

            With a deep sigh, Bucky started, “I used to have nightmares a lot after I was discharged. Al-almost every night. It was…really bad. I was on all kinds of medication for depression and anxiety and I don’t even know what all else. I didn’t think it would ever stop, but…it did, eventually. But, I guess, after the other night…all the blood…I-I freaked out a little bit.”

            Bucky took a shaky breath. Clint was shocked. He only remembered Bucky being entirely steady, talking to the vet, and taking care of Clint. Getting things done.

            “Once I got you to the hospital, I had a panic attack. Natasha found me in the corner of the waiting room. They wouldn’t tell me anything that was happening with you. Wouldn’t tell me if you were going to be okay. Because we weren’t related or whatever. Natasha found me and talked me down.

            “Anyway, I think the whole…thing sparked some memories. That-that’s why…the nightmare. Probably, at least. I don’t fucking know. Sometimes they pop up for no reason. With no triggers.”

            Clint was gripping Bucky’s shirt tightly in a fist. He had no idea what to say. He was terrible at being comforting. He looked up at Bucky, but the man’s eyes were far, far away.

            “I was captured,” Bucky said abruptly. “That’s how…the arm. Well, I got blown up first. Then they took my whole squad, threw us in a hole. I watched…” Bucky choked on a sob. Clint released Bucky’s shirt and scooted up the bed so that he could wrap his arms around Bucky’s shoulder and press his forehead against Bucky’s temple. “I watched them torture and kill off my men one by one. I kept begging them to take me instead. I begged…I just wanted to die. I didn’t want to watch anymore. And, eventually, they did. I think I was half dead by the time they rescued us. Just me and one other guy left.”

            “Bucky,” Clint breathed, his heart broken into a million pieces for the man laying next to him. He had no idea. Bucky seemed so…well-adjusted. To have gone through all of that and still be a functioning human…Clint couldn’t imagine it. He had seen some shit in the circus, had some shitty things happen to him, but nothing like this. Nothing that could ever compare to this.

            Bucky’s far away eyes refocused, but his gaze just dropped downward as he shrank in on himself. “But it wasn’t just…They didn’t just torture us _physically,_ Clint. It was…it’s why I can’t bottom anymore, you know? I can’t do it because all I can remember is…”

            Clint let out a noise that he didn’t know he could make. It was anger and sadness and bitterness that the world would do something like that to this wonderful man all rolled into one. Bucky stopped talking and turned his head, burying it in Clint’s throat, the heat of his breath as sobs overtook him brushing against Clint’s skin.

            Clint held him as tight as he could, ignoring the ache in his ribs at the position. He didn’t feel in any way prepared to handle this. His mind was reeling with the new information, processing it, but continuously seeming to fall short of understanding.

            After a few minutes, Bucky began mumbling “sorry” over and over again. He was curling in on himself again, but Clint wasn’t about to accept that. With a hand cupping Bucky’s chin, he tilted Bucky’s face up and began covering it in kisses, wiping away the tears with his lips. Bucky let out a broken whine and caught Clint’s lips, slotting their mouths together easily.

            It was salty from the tears, but Clint put everything he could into the kiss. Everything he was feeling, everything he didn’t know how to say out loud. The affection and support he wished he could express in words. They broke apart after a moment, but Clint kept his forehead pressed against Bucky’s, hoping the physical contact was somehow reassuring since he had no idea how else to help.

            “I didn’t mean to put all this on you,” Bucky said. Clint immediately shook his head, opening his mouth to say…something. But Bucky cut him off with a kiss before continuing. “I never know how to explain…but I figured you deserved an explanation for why…why I’m…broken.”

            “No,” Clint said firmly, knowing, this time, what he wanted to say. “You are not broken. That’s the amazing thing, Buck. They didn’t break you. You came home and you rebuilt your life and you’re amazing. After all of that, you’ve still managed to…to be happy and healthy and…I know it’s probably still hard. And that nightmares will happen. You didn’t have to tell me, but I’m glad you did, ‘cause it just makes me l-like you, admire you, that much more.”

            Bucky shook his head, but instead of responding, pressed his lips to Clint’s again. It was slower this time, sweeter than the frantic attempts at reassurance from earlier. Clint brushed his fingers up Bucky’s jaw then into his hair in the way he knew Bucky liked. Letting out a happy hum, Bucky pulled back and just let their noses brush against each other for a few moments.

            “So,” Clint said after a few minutes. “We could try to get some more sleep…or we could get the tub of ice cream from your freezer and binge watch Stranger Things like we’ve been talking about.”

            A smile spread across Bucky’s face, and something released in Clint’s chest. Seeing that smile again, reminding him that Bucky was okay, Clint didn’t think he had ever seen anything so beautiful. He would do anything to keep that smile on Bucky’s face.

            “I think I like the second option,” Bucky said, his voice a little hoarse and water-y.

            Clint nodded and kissed him again once before sliding off the bed. “Be right back, babe.”

            They ate their way through the whole thing of ice cream with Bucky tucked into Clint’s side, and watched two full episodes of Stranger Things. Bucky fell asleep halfway through the third one, his head on Clint’s shoulder, and his hand fisted in Clint’s shirt.

            Clint laid there awake for a while after he turned off the TV, still processing everything Bucky had told him. It seemed impossible. It seemed far away. But he knew for Bucky it wasn’t far away at all, it was his reality. Clint just hoped he could help a little bit, somehow. And he hoped he could be worthy of someone as amazing as Bucky one day. Worthy of being more than they were now. Worthy of standing by his side in front of all their friends. He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s temple one last time before letting his eyes drift closed, promising himself that he would become enough to keep this man.

            The rest of his days at Bucky’s passed quickly, no more nightmares surfacing as they slept, and Clint recovered quickly. For the first time in his life, he debated acting like he needed more time to rehabilitate, knowing that once he went back to work they’d be back to only seeing each once or twice a week when their schedules allowed it. After almost a whole week of spending time together every day and sleeping in the same bed every night, separating again was going to be tough, to say the least.

            And the other thing was Lucky. Clint had gotten used to the dog limping around behind him. The pup wasn’t technically supposed to be walking on his broken leg at all, but Clint didn’t have the heart to make him stay on the couch the whole time. (And, you know, he had to go to the bathroom sometime.)

            And he was just about the sweetest pup Clint had ever met. He took every opportunity he could to plop his head down in Clint’s lap for petting. Clint would be lying if he said the floppy ears and lolling tongue weren’t endearing as fuck, despite the slobber and copious amounts of dog hair he kept finding all over himself. To Bucky’s credit, he never complained about the amount of dog hair covering his couch.

            It wasn’t until the third day that Clint had a thought.

            “Hey, Buck?” Clint asked as Bucky was throwing some dinner together for them. “When you picked up Lucky, did they say anything about the bill?”

            Bucky paused in his movements, then without turning around, said, “I took care of it.”

            Clint sighed. That’s what he had figured even if he had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, he could not afford to pay hospital bills for both him and Lucky. On the other hand, Lucky was his dog, not Bucky’s, and therefore Clint’s responsibility.

            “And the bill for my hospital stay?” Clint prompted, already knowing the answer.

            “I took care of that, too.”

            “Buck,” Clint started, the exasperation leaking into his voice.

            Bucky finally turned around to look at him, his face clearly defensive. “Clint, I wanted to. It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

            “It _is_ a big deal, Bucky.” Clint ran a hand through his hair. “I know it couldn’t have been cheap. And I appreciate it. I just… I don’t want you to think you have to take care of me. I’m not helpless.”

            “I know you’re not,” Bucky countered, stepping towards him with his hands out in a placating gesture. “I would never think that. But that money…if it means you being taken care of and getting what you need, it’s nothing to me Clint.”

            Clint huffed, wanting to argue more, feeling like he should argue more. But he just shook his head. At least Bucky hadn’t tried to pay his student loans yet. “All right, Buck. I won’t fight you on this. But…could you at least, like, talk to me about it before doing something like this again?”

            Bucky reached out, taking Clint’s hand and bringing it to his lips, and pressed a gentle kiss to the palm. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it this time.”

            Clint just shook his head, an affectionate smile spreading across his face. He tugged Bucky towards him. Their little make-out session left them horny and with almost burned pasta.

            When Clint finally left for home, it was with great reluctance. Steve and Peggy both fussed over him when he got there and made him recount the whole story. He purposefully substituted Bucky’s parts for Natasha, feeling a little guilty about it. It felt kind of silly at this point, keeping Bucky a secret. He was swiftly becoming one of the most important parts of Clint’s life and to not talk about him seemed ridiculous.

            It was Tuesday when Clint went back to his life. He fell back into the routine easily, but begrudgingly. By Friday, he was itching to see Bucky again, but he was going out with Sam and Natasha, of course, and some other friends were even coming along this time. Scott, Thor, Jane, Darcy, and Wanda had all confirmed that they were coming. He would feel even worse for ditching than normal since they all so rarely got to hang out these days. And Bucky had plans with Steve that night, anyway, and he didn’t want to get in between the two brothers.

            They got to Marvel, and everyone was in a festive mood for no apparent reason. Probably just because they had all found time to hang out. Clint was enjoying himself immensely, even though he wasn’t drinking much. He probably shouldn’t have been drinking at all with the medications he was on, but one or two beers wouldn’t kill him. Probably…

            Maybe he should have checked the labels.

            Too late, though, he was already here and having fun.

            So imagine his surprise when he saw Tasha’s eyes widen, looking at something over his shoulder. He turned, and there was Steve and Bucky, greeting everyone at the table. Bucky’s eyes connected with his briefly, expressly apologetic though his face remained neutral.

            Clint quickly schooled his face as well. Everyone shifted in their seats, making room for two more. Of course, because the universe hated him, Bucky ended up right next to Clint. Bucky looked at him, smiling casually, and nodded, just like he would have before. Something broke in Clint a little bit.

            He managed to ignore it for the most part, turning back to the table and listening to the conversation that had picked back up around him, but Bucky’s presence to his right never quite faded from his awareness. He knew every time Bucky shifted or moved, felt it when Bucky laughed, felt the vibrations in his chest when Bucky spoke. But he didn’t touch. It was a close call a few times, his hand moving on instinct towards Bucky, but he managed to divert it towards his beer bottle or up to run through his hair.

            The worst part of all of it was that Bucky seemed to be having none of the problems Clint was experiencing. He barely even looked at Clint.

            After a while, Clint couldn’t take it anymore. He made an excuse and went to the bathroom. It was a strategic retreat before he lost his shit. God, he wasn’t being rational. He was upset over nothing, and he didn’t even know who or what he was mad at.

            When he came out of the bathroom stall, Bucky was standing there, hands in his pockets and an apologetic expression on his face. “I’m so sorry, Clint,” Bucky said, reaching one hand out towards Clint as he washed his hands. “Steve asked if I wanted to get drinks, but he didn’t mention that we’d be meeting up with people…”

            “It’s fine,” Clint said flatly as he dried his hands, knowing he was doing a shit job of lying. He tossed the paper towel into the bin across the room easily.

            “Clint,” Bucky started.

            “It’s fine, Bucky,” He cut him off, putting a little more force into it this time, and he almost believed himself. “Really. You can be friends with my friends. I’m not mad that you’re here, if that’s what you think.”

            “You are mad,” Bucky insisted, which pissed Clint off a little bit. Who was Bucky to tell him what emotions he was having?

            “I’m _not_ mad,” He said, gritting his teeth. “I’m just…I don’t even know. I’m tired anyway…think I’m gonna head home soon.”

            “No, Clint,” Bucky held up both hands in front of him, as if he was going to stop Clint from leaving. “I’ll go. These are your friends.”

            “No, really, Buck.” Clint ran a hand through his hair, suddenly actually feeling exhausted. “With the meds I’m on…and I probably shouldn’t be drinking anyway. I’m just going to get some sleep.”

            Bucky seemed to want to protest more, but he dropped his hands. “Okay, Clint. I-Just…are we okay?”

            “Of course, babe,” Clint said, stepping forward and pulling Bucky’s head down for a light kiss. “Totally fine.”

            Bucky nodded and pulled Clint in again, licking into his mouth, but keeping it short. With their luck, someone would walk through the door right then.

            Clint pulled away and left the bathroom without saying anything else. As soon as he got to the table, he grabbed his jacket, telling the table generally, “I think I’m gonna head home, guys. The meds I’m on really take it out of me.”

            Everyone protested as he knew they would, tried to get him to stay, but he smiled good-naturedly and stood his ground. He hugged Tasha before he left, but just shook his head when he met her questioning eyes. He would talk to her about it later. And he was really fine anyway. It wasn’t a big deal, just an overreaction he would get over soon.

            He slipped away just as Bucky started making his way back to the table from the bathroom. When he got home, he pet Lucky’s head for a moment and then crawled in to bed. The covers draped over him, comforting but not with the warmth he wanted.

            He woke up again briefly when Bucky got home, feeling a hand running through his hair and lips pressing to his temple. Then a few minutes later those arms wrapped around him, grounding him and filling him with a sense of safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In regards to disclaimer 2: Bucky briefly describes his experience as a POW, which includes allusions to torture and rape though nothing is explicit at all, but if you're worried just skip down a bit when Clint wakes up to Bucky having a nightmare.
> 
> Kudos, comments, squeals, and constructive criticisms always welcome.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE!!! Sorry for the absence, but I've been in desperation mode with my thesis for the last month or so. But I did the thing! I turned it in! So hopefully updates will be more regular again.  
> Also, this chapter? was not?? supposed to be??? angsty???? But then it was??????

Before Clint could really pick up on what was happening, both he and Bucky were swamped with work and school. Despite the fact that he had felt like he was still productive while on injury leave, there was a pile of things for him to catch up on when he went back. That, combined with the fact that Bucky went to Tokyo for a week, then left for Los Angeles within 24 hours of getting back meant two weeks passed without them seeing each other at all. When Bucky was out of town, Clint took care of Lucky, but even when Bucky came back, it seemed that their schedules never overlapped.

Halfway through the third week of not seeing each other (Bucky had been catching up on meetings and work that he’d missed while not in New York since being back), Clint was starting to feel some of the frustration that Bucky had said was a driving force in ending some of his previous relationships. Clint in no way wanted to break up with Bucky; he just wanted to see him. To have 30 minutes where it was just the two of them.

There was a good chance they were going to be able to see each other over the weekend, but that seemed so far away, seeing as it was only Tuesday. Clint was getting desperate.

With all of that in mind, Clint got Wanda to cover his writing center shift for that day, picked up some take out, and headed towards Stark Tower, not quite feeling as brave as he was acting. His anxiety only went up when standing in the shadow of the massive building. Bucky had once told him that the building was Tony’s equivalent of a middle finger to all the people who had predicted Stark Industries’ downfall in the wake of Tony ending all weapons development. To Clint, the impressive building mostly just felt like a taunt, a physical reminder of how far away Clint’s world was from Bucky’s.

Clint’s hands were gripping tight to the strap of his messenger bag, and he was just about to turn around and scurry back down the subway stairs when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

_Natasha: Don’t you dare chicken out_

Clint smiled down at the text and then, looking back up at the building, took a deep breath before stepping towards the doors. No one reacted as he stepped into the lobby. No one gave him weird looks like he didn’t belong. The lobby was filled with people all milling about purposefully, and off to the side, there was what looked like a general reception desk.

Clint made his way over there, dodging frantic staff on cell phones with their arms full of files. As he approached, one of the receptionists regarded him with a bland smile. He gripped the strap of his bag tighter in one fist, reminding himself that he’d never hear the end of it from Tasha if he left now.

“Can I help you?” the red-headed woman behind the desk asked.

 “Um, yeah, I’m here to see Bucky Barnes.”

“Mr. Barnes?” The receptionist said with a dubious expression as she looked Clint up and down. His face flamed red. In all of his anxiety, he hadn’t really considered how ridiculous it was for a kid off the street to show up and ask for one of the executives of one of the biggest companies in the world. “And your name?”

“Uh, Clint Barton.”

The receptionist clacked at her keyboard for a moment, and then her expression abruptly shifted. “Oh, Mr. Barton. My apologies. Of course, I’ll get you right up.”

Clint only barely managed to stop his jaw from dropping. That was not what he had expected to happen. At all.

The receptionist clacked at her keyboard again before retrieving a key card from…somewhere and holding it out to him. “Go to the far elevator and scan this card when you get inside,” she said. “It will take your direct to the 73rd floor. Turn right out of the elevator for Mr. Barnes’ office.”

“Oh, great. Thanks,” he responded, but when he looked up from examining the key card, she had already moved on to doing something else. Taking that as a dismissal, Clint drew in another deep breath and headed for the elevators. He passed to the last one, which had its own call button much like the elevator in Bucky’s building, and the doors swooshed open almost as soon as he pressed the button.

He scanned the card as he had been instructed, and the doors closed behind him, a green light shining next to the card reader.

“Welcome to Stark Tower, Mr. Barton,” a voice came from seemingly nowhere.

Clint violently startled at the unexpected greeting and breathed out an eloquent “what the fuck” as he turned around the elevator, looking for some sign of where the voice may have come from.

“My apologies, sir. It was not my intention to startle you.”

“Who _are_ you?” Clint asked, completely bewildered.

“My name is JARVIS. I am an A.I. built by Mr. Stark. I run the Tower.”

“That’s…” Pretty damn awesome, actually. “Crazy.”

“Indeed, sir.” JARVIS replied, the A.I.’s tone shifting to something amused. “If you find yourself in need of anything while you are here, I would be happy to assist you.”

“Right,” Clint said. “I’ll just ask the building for help.”

“You’ll get used to it, sir.”

The elevator glided to a stop and the doors opened onto a surprisingly quiet floor. Clint turned right as he had been told to do, and saw someone sitting at a desk at the end of the wide hallway.

Just as Clint got close enough to the person to say something, the door behind the young man opened and Bucky appeared through them, hastily tying a tie. When he saw Clint approaching, his face lit up, and all of Clint’s anxiety about showing up at the Tower melted away.

“Clint,” Bucky said, sounding genuinely delighted to see him. “JARVIS told me you were on your way up. What are you doing here?” Before Clint could respond, Bucky grabbed his hand and began pulling him back through the office doors. He called out, “Hold all my calls,” over his shoulder to the man at the desk.

Clint didn’t hear any response as the door closed behind him and then he was being pulled into a heated kiss, Bucky’s hands tugging at his hips so they were pressed against each other. They sank into each other for a few minutes, the kisses transitioning from quick and heated to slow and affectionate.

“Hey,” Bucky breathed, pressing one last kiss to Clint’s lips. “What are you doing here?

“I missed you,” Clint responded because it was all he could think of in that moment, how much he had missed Bucky the last few weeks.

“I missed you too.” Bucky said, stroking one hand over Clint’s cheek, kissing his forehead, and then pulling him into a tight embrace. “Seriously, sweetheart. It’s so good to see you.”

Clint swallowed thickly and pulled back from the hug even though he didn’t really want it to end. Nudging his nose against Bucky’s jaw, he said, “I brought lunch. I was hoping…”

Suddenly, Bucky pulled away completely, crossing over to his desk and hitting the intercom button. “Peter…”

“I’ve pushed back your 12:30 conference call and rescheduled your meeting with Helen Cho for tomorrow,” Bucky’s assistant said before he could even get the request out.

“Perfect. Thank you, Peter. Feel free to take a long lunch if you want. Call Wade and make it a date.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Bucky cut off the intercom and looked back up at Clint, smiling broadly. “I’m all yours for at least an hour.”

Clint couldn’t help but smile back, incredibly relieved that Bucky wasn’t annoyed with him for showing up and seemed just as eager to spend time with him as he was to spend time with Bucky.

For the first time, Clint really took a look around the large office space. The far wall was entirely made of windows with a frankly breathtaking view of Manhattan. To the left, closest to the door, was Bucky’s desk, imposing and organized. To the right, was a comfortable looking sitting area with modern looking furniture, much like Bucky’s apartment.

Bucky took the bag of food from Clint’s hand and carried it over to the couches. He began to pull the cartons from the bag, setting it all out on the coffee table as Clint did a slow circle of the office. Art adorned almost every wall; Clint recognized Steve’s signature in the bottom of a few. The others, he didn’t recognize, but if he had to guess, he’d bet they were pretty damn expensive. On the farthest wall from the door, a smaller frame held a magazine cover. It was Bloomberg Businessweek, and Clint’s eyes widened when he realized that it was Bucky on the cover.

The cover proclaimed the rise of a new CFO at Stark Industries. They’d captured Bucky from the hips up, sitting on a stool and wearing an intimidating all black suit. His hair was slicked back from his face, and his lips looked red like they did after an intense make-out session. In short, he looked fucking amazing.

“Ah, yeah,” Bucky said, suddenly behind him. “That was right after I got promoted. Luckily, I haven’t had to do much like that since then. I’ve never been a big fan of the PR side of things. I let Pepper handle all of that.”

“It’s a great picture,” Clint managed to say, his eyes not leaving the cover. It was a serious understatement.

Bucky scoffed. “They can make anyone look good with photoshop these days.”

Clint looked back at Bucky in surprise. “I doubt they did much to it at all, Buck. You really look like that. All the fucking time. Hell, you look that good first thing in the morning.”

Bucky was still looking at him disbelievingly. Like he didn’t realize how fucking attractive he was. But that would be ridiculous. How could he not know? Clint took two long strides until he was standing directly in front of Bucky and captured Bucky’s hand in his.

“Bucky, babe,” Clint said, utterly sincere. “You are literally the hottest person I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but his face split into a bright, shy smile. Leaning in, he kissed Clint’s nose and then caught Clint’s lips for a moment, chaste but lingering in a way that made Clint want to swoon.

“If you say so, sweetheart,” Bucky responded, clearly not convinced, but willing to indulge Clint.

He thought about pressing the point, but Bucky pulled on his hand, leading him back to the couch where all the food had been put out. Once Clint settled on the couch with food on his plate, he indicated the magazine cover on the wall and asked, “So you’ve done some other stuff like that?”

“A few,” Bucky responded, popping open two water bottles that he had produced from somewhere while Clint’s back was turned. “I did one about a year ago with Pepper and Tony. That was fun. Less awkward because I didn’t have to be the center of attention.”

Suddenly, Bucky’s office door burst open, and Tony Stark came through. He had a tablet in his hand, looking down at it rather than watching where he was walking, and he was already talking when he came in the door.

“Bucky, my friend, my pal, my favorite CFO, I need to talk to you about the funding for a few of these contracts. We need to open up some room and you’re the expert here, so…”

“Tony,” Bucky cut him off, but before he could continue, Tony looked up and caught sight of Clint.

“Oh ho, you must be the new boy toy Bucky-boy has been incredibly evasive about recently. Gotta say, not what I was expecting. He usually goes for skinny guys, and you, my friend, are definitely not skinny. God, the size of your biceps…”

“Tony!”

Clint stared wide-eyed at Tony Stark. He had come into the room like a whirlwind, all manic energy and overexcitement. When Bucky’s voice cut across Tony’s again, Clint blinked over at him, looking for some clue as to how he should be reacting to everything that had happened in the last thirty seconds.

Bucky’s fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he said, “We’ve talked about this, Tony. You can’t just come bursting into my office whenever you want.”

Tony blinked, confused. “But it’s my building.”

“Tony.”

The man flapped a dismissive hand in Bucky’s direction. “All right, all right. I’ll let you have your lunch, but only if you and Mr. Biceps here agree to dinner with me and Pepper. Thursday, maybe? I’ll have Pepper book somewhere nice. Somewhere quiet so we can all get to know each other.”

“Dammit, Tony.” Bucky rolled his eyes hard and stood up.

“I’ll take that as a yes from Buckminster Fuller here. What about you, Blondie? Thursday?”

Clint blinked then realized he was being spoken too. He looked over at Bucky again and eloquently said, “Uh…”

Bucky just shrugged and said, “We should probably just do it. Now that Tony’s got it in his head, he’s not going to let it go easily.”

“Hey!” Tony squawked indignantly.

Clint shrugged back at Bucky. “Okay then. Why not?”

There were two things going through Clint’s mind at that moment. First, that these were fucking fancy people, and he definitely needed to step up his wardrobe game for this dinner. He needed to figure out how to make a good impression on them because he knew they were some of Bucky’s best friends. Second, that he and Bucky had never even been on a real date before. The lunch Tony had interrupted was the closest thing to a date they’d ever done. And now they were apparently doubling with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts? Third, how the fuck was this his life now?

Okay, just kidding, three things. And that last one seemed to be on repeat.

Bucky smiled apologetically at him and asked, “Thursday is your late night, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a late shift at the writing center. I’m off at eight.”

“So 9:00,” Tony cut in, pulling his phone as he spoke. “Pep, dinner Thursday with the Barnes-Bartons? Well, this is a perfect excuse to cancel that dinner with Hammer. Really, Pep? Did you really think you could get me to sit down for a whole dinner with that asshat? Well yeah, okay, but I would’ve hated it.”

He disappeared through the door still talking, pulling it shut behind him, and the office fell back into silence.

“Holy shit,” Clint said after a moment.

“Yeah, uh, sorry about him. He’s eccentric.” Bucky sat back down, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Holy shit,” Clint said again, shaking his head. “Did that just happen?”

Bucky chuckled. “It did. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’ll call Pepper and tell her Tony steamrolled us.”

“No, no,” Clint responded quickly. “I want to go. These are your friends so I’d love to get to know them.”

Bucky’s answering smile lit up his face. “Okay then.”

That’s how Clint found himself practically running through the streets of Manhattan at 9:15pm two days later. A student had come into the writing center just before close, practically crying about her midterm paper, and Clint’s a total sucker. He agreed to look it over, which meant he was running late and hadn’t gotten a chance to go home and change. He was still wearing his jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie. Luckily, it was all clean, but he’d tossed that impress-Bucky’s-friends hope right out the window.

He’d texted Bucky to let him know, apologizing profusely, and Bucky had assured him it was fine, of course. He slowed to a stop outside the restaurant doors and caught his breath. He knew he didn’t look fancy enough for this place; he didn’t really want to be breathing like he’d just run a marathon too.

After a few deep breaths, he pushed through the door. The hostess looked him up and down skeptically as he attempted to brush down his windswept hair.

“Name?” She asked disdainfully, her eyebrows lifted in judgement.

“Um, Clint Barton?” He responded and winced when it came out as a question.

Then that thing happened again. Like at the Tower when he went to visit Bucky. The hostess’s eyes widened and her demeanor changed completely. “Of course, Mr. Barton. My apologies. We’ve been expecting you. This way.”

She turned on her heel and walked towards the back. Clint adjusted the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder and followed. Leading him to a back room, she slid a door open and pushed aside a curtain. Clint stepped past her into the room with a nervous twinge in his belly.

A single table dominated the room, illuminated almost exclusively by candlelight. It was intimate, and Clint found himself relaxing a little bit before he even took another step into the room. The three people at the table all smiled when he walked in, and Bucky stood, pressing a light kiss to his cheek before pulling out his chair. The blush that spread across his cheeks was embarrassing, but unavoidable. He didn’t think he’d ever had anyone pull out his chair for him, not in a setting like this at least.

“Clint,” Bucky said as he sat back down. “This is my boss, Pepper Potts.”

“Please, James. You make it sound like we’re not even friends.” Pepper had a pleasant voice, and Clint liked her almost instantly. She reached a thin hand across the table towards Clint. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you to,” Clint responded to her before addressing the table generally. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got caught up at work and well…”

Everyone at the table chuckled a bit, and Clint looked at Bucky, confused. It was Pepper who explained, “We all know what it’s like to get caught up at work. It’s a bit of a shock that Tony’s even here right now. Usually he’s doing well when he makes it to a dinner an hour late.”

“What can I say?” Tony said, an impish grin on his face. “Science waits for no man.”

“Or date with your girlfriend,” Pepper quipped without any real heat. The expression on Tony’s face held nothing but pure adoration as Pepper rolled her eyes at him. Clint laughed along with Bucky at the couple’s banter.

Conversation flowed easily after that, and Clint found his nerves settling quickly. Pepper showed a polite interest in his research, and Tony wanted to know how the laptop was working out for him. Once the main course plates had been cleared away, Tony insisted on ordering six different desserts so he could try all of them. Clint’s insides felt nice and warm from the good food and the wine they’d been drinking. As Tony chattered away to the waiter, Bucky dropped his arm over the back of Clint’s chair with his body turned slightly towards Clint, hand at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and thumb rubbing lightly against the back of his neck.

Clint just barely managed to hide his surprise. They’d never shared this kind of easy affection in public before. Never had an opportunity to. He was under the impression it wasn’t something Bucky would really be in to. Goosebumps spread across the back of his neck and a blush worked its way up his cheeks.

He made eye contact with Pepper, and she winked slyly at him as if she knew what he was thinking, which only made him blush more.

Tony was wrapping up a story when Clint dragged his attention back to the conversation. “But that was before Buckyballs caught on to what Obie was doing and saved all of our asses, of course.”

Clint involuntarily let out a noise of curiosity, causing all eyes at the table to turn towards him. He looked from Tony to Bucky before asking, “What did Bucky catch him doing?”

Tony rolled his eyes in exasperation, but Pepper smiled. “Of course, you haven’t told him. You’re too modest, James.”

Bucky mumbled something about it not being a big deal under his breath as he lifted his wine glass to his lips. Clint had a feeling it was a very big deal because Pepper was right; Bucky was too modest. Or Bucky legitimately had no idea how awesome he was.

“So,” Tony started, leaning forward so his arms rested on the table. “The CFO of Stark Industries used to be this guy named Obadiah Stane. He’d been with the company for years and years. Since back when my dad was still alive. The board basically thought he was god’s gift to the company and that he could do no wrong. But then one day, this upstart accountant who hadn’t even been at the company for a whole year yet marches into my office with a thumb drive full of evidence that Obie was dealing under the table.” Tony paused for dramatic effect. “Dealing _weapons_ under the table. Millions of dollars’ worth of weapons going out all over the world to people who were definitely not the United States government. And nobody had caught him. The records Bucky brought me went back over twenty years.”

There was a pause as the waiters delivered dessert and everybody took a couple of bites.

Clint looked over at Bucky, seeing him in a new light. He knew Bucky was good with numbers and, if he was being honest, he didn’t really know what kind of math would’ve gone into figuring that out. But if nobody else had caught on for almost twenty years? It must’ve been pretty impressive. Gathering his courage and attempting to appear casual, Clint slid his hand over to rest just above Bucky’s knee. It was a possessive move more than anything; Clint claiming the brilliant man next to him publicly (sort of) in a way he hadn’t had the opportunity to before.

Bucky smiled at him, a bit of red coloring his cheeks out of embarrassment at Tony’s praise, and let his hand drift down to Clint’s bicep, squeezing lightly. Clint left his hand on Bucky’s leg as he turned back to Tony, who continued the story once the waiter left.  

“I don’t believe him at first, of course,” Tony said. “Before I looked at the data.”

Pepper cleared her throat next to him, smiling serenely.

“Okay, Pepper looked at the data first.” Tony acquiesced with a smile. “I had just dropped the thumb drive on that table after kicking Bucky out of my office, and Pepper, who was still my assistant at the time, took it. She forced it on me the next day. Two days after that, Obie was in jail, and I offered Bucky the CFO job.”

“I don’t know if there’s more than a handful of people in the world who could have put that evidence together the way Bucky did,” Pepper added.

Clint was smiling now, his chest full to bursting with pride. Not that he really had a reason to be proud. He hadn’t even known Bucky then, but he was. And it made sense now, how Bucky had become CFO so young. Who else could they have put in the position in those circumstances?

“That’s really awesome, Buck,” Clint said, turning to him.

Bucky’s blush had spread as the story wrapped up, and he shook his head at Clint’s words. “I just followed the money.”

Tony scoffed, and Pepper shook her head in an exasperated way. They had clearly all had this conversation before. Possibly several times.

“And that’s when Stark Industries stopped making weapons?” Clint asked, already knowing the answer.

Tony cleared his throat, looking more serious than Clint had seen him so far. “Yeah, I figured we had caused enough chaos and damage in the world, and it was about time we started making up for it. The board was happy to get rid of Obie, but not so happy about that decision.”

Clint nodded in understanding, stuffing the last bite of the crème brûlée dish into his mouth. He felt another squeeze on his bicep and turned to look at Bucky, who was watching him with a soft expression. He quirked his eyebrows in a way that Clint somehow understood, so he wasn’t surprised when Bucky turned to Pepper and Tony to announce that they were going to head home.

Pepper, to Clint’s surprise, pulled him into a hug when they all stood and whispered in his ear, “Be good to him.”

Clint nodded to her when she pulled back, not knowing what else to do.

Tony clapped him on the shoulder and said, “let me know if you ever need an upgrade on those hearing aids, Hawkeye.”

Clint’s head snapped to him in surprise and over to Bucky, who raised his hands to claim his innocence. “How did you…”

Tony laughed. “You really think I wouldn’t run an incredibly extensive background check on the guy my friend and CFO is dating? What do you take me for, Barton?”

“Tony,” Pepper said disapprovingly.

Bucky closed his hand around Clint’s wrist and tugged him lightly away from Tony. “Before we find out what other bad habits you have, Clint and I are really going to go.”

They left Tony to be scolded by Pepper and made their way out of the restaurant, Bucky’s hand a warm pressure on the small of his back. He wasn’t sure why Bucky wanted to leave so quickly, but he wasn’t complaining either. It had been nice to feel like a normal couple for a night, to touch and be touched, in public. To feel claimed that way. But Clint was also looking forward to getting Bucky alone for the first time in weeks.

When they stepped outside, Bucky turned to him and asked, “You don’t have anywhere to be in the morning, right?”

Clint shook his head. “Nothing until after twelve.”

“Perfect,” Bucky said with a grin and something hungry in his eyes, taking Clint’s hand and leading him towards the parking lot. The air in the car was charged with an anticipatory tension.

God, it had been too long. Almost three weeks. Clint was desperate to get his hands on Bucky again.

Luckily, it didn’t take long to get back to Bucky’s building, and they made it into the elevator before Bucky pushed him up against the wall. Clint moaned into Bucky’s mouth, letting Bucky control the kiss completely.

“God, I missed this,” Bucky said against his lips before ducking his head and sucking on Clint’s pulse point.

Clint arched his back when Bucky’s hands slid under his shirt and then startled when the elevator dinged, the doors opening. Following Bucky into the apartment, he dropped his bag, kicked his shoes off, and tossed his jacket onto the couch. Lucky woofed and approached, but then was distracted by the sound of Bucky putting food in his bowl.

As soon as the pup was occupied with his dinner, Bucky and Clint escaped to the bedroom, shutting the door behind them so they wouldn’t be interrupted. Things calmed down then, the desperation falling away replaced with a slow burning passion.

Bucky slowly stripped out of his suit, watching intently as Clint made quick work of his clothes. Once he was down to his underwear, Clint climbed onto the bed, pushing the blanket aside, and laid down with his legs spread in invitation. He began touching his dick lightly, teasingly as Bucky pulled off his own pants and draped them over a chair.

One of the downsides, Clint had discovered, to wearing suits that cost several thousand dollars on a daily basis was that you couldn’t just toss your clothes on the floor at the end of the day.

Bucky joined him on the bed, starting at the end so he could work his way up Clint’s body with his lips. His lips pressed against the inside of Clint’s thigh, his hands running up the outside of his legs at the same time.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Bucky said, making Clint’s face heat. “You drove me crazy all night. Just wanted to get you home and take you apart.”

“Bucky, please,” Clint pleaded, already breathless with need. He started to reach his hand under his boxers, but Bucky stopped him, his hand wrapping around Clint’s wrist and his lips mouthing at Clint’s dick.

His hips lifted slightly only to be pushed back down by Bucky’s hands. “Patience, sweetheart.”

A desperate whine tore from Clint’s throat, but he closed his eyes and pushed back that desperation so he could nod and mean it. Reaching out with one hand when he opened his eyes, Clint pulled out Bucky’s hair tie. He was getting pretty good at it. He loved Bucky’s hair, especially when it was loose. Bucky made a noise of approval as he sucked a mark onto Clint’s hipbone.

Once he was satisfied with his work, Bucky shifted upwards so he could slot their mouths together. The kiss was tender in a way Clint couldn’t remember ever feeling before. Not even with Bobbi.

“Buck,” Clint breathed and pressed his face into Bucky’s neck, trying to process the emotions rushing through him. It felt too early to be feeling what he was feeling, and that terrified him. This could all come crashing down around his ears any time and it would leave him absolutely devastated. All he needed to prove that was how viscerally Clint had missed him over the last few weeks.

Before those thoughts could overwhelm him, Bucky brushed his lips against Clint’s temple. “I know, sweetheart,” Bucky said. “I know. I’m right here.”

With his hand cupping Clint’s jaw, Bucky pushed under Clint’s chin with his thumb, gently forcing Clint out of his hiding spot. Then he tugged until both of them were on their sides, their legs tangled and faces close enough to feel each other’s breath.

Clint couldn’t meet Bucky’s eyes. How the atmosphere had gone from frenzied lust to…something else so quickly baffled him, and his instincts told him to avoid whatever was about to happen at all costs. So he pushed forward so their bodies were pressed together again, foot to shoulder.

“Clint,” Bucky started, but Clint cut him off, claiming his lips desperately. He didn’t know how to have these conversations, didn’t know how to be emotionally healthy. It’s why Bobbi left. It’s why everyone left eventually. And Bucky was about to figure it out too.

Bucky sighed and pulled away from the kiss, his hand running up and down Clint’s spine gently. “Clint, sweetheart, tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

Clint shook his head. He didn’t know how to talk about what he was feeling. He didn’t want to talk about it either. Didn’t want to scare Bucky away. And once he said something out loud, he wouldn’t be able to take it back.

One of Bucky’s hands slid into his hair and cupped the back of his head. Their foreheads rested against each other for a moment as Bucky considered him, the wreck in his arms. Part of Clint wanted to put his clothes back on and run. The other part wanted to wind himself so tightly around Bucky that it would be impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other began.

“Okay,” Bucky finally said, still speaking quiet and cautious. “Then tell me what you want.”

The request surprised Clint, and he looked up into Bucky’s eyes before he realized what he was doing. Immediately mesmerized by the swirling blue storms in those eyes, Clint said, “I want you to fuck me.”

Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Clint cut him off. “W-wait, no. I want…um, I want…”

He didn’t know how to finish. Didn’t know how to communicate what he needed, so he pushed at Bucky’s shoulder until he fell onto his back. Clint pulled off his own boxers, then Bucky’s, and straddled Bucky’s hips. To his surprise, Bucky didn’t try to stop him when he rolled his ass down against Bucky’s cock.

Bucky bit at his lip and looked conflicted, but didn’t say anything as Clint got the lube and a condom from the bedside table.

Setting both aside, Clint leaned over Bucky and kissed him, trying to communicate things in the kiss that he couldn’t in words. When he pulled back, he held eye contact and pleaded, “Please, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded immediately, all uncertainty gone from his expression. Stroking Clint’s face gently, he said, “Anything you want, sweetheart. You know I’d give you whatever you want.”

With that permission, Clint takes the lube and spreads some onto his own fingers before reaching behind himself and beginning to stretch his hole. He’d never done this to himself before, but he knew if he let Bucky do it, he’d draw it out. And Clint was desperate to fuck himself on Bucky’s cock. To control everything that happened. To feel in control when his mind was so out of control.

He worked himself up to three fingers quickly with Bucky’s hands rubbing back and forth on Clint’s thighs and occasionally reaching to stroke Clint’s cock. “God, you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart.”

Something heaved in Clint’s chest, a small broken noise making its way out, and he had to do something. Grabbing the condom with one hand, he put it on Bucky’s cock with a lot of urgency and no finesse, then stroked him with the already lubed hand.

To his relief, Bucky made no move to take over or change their position. He just gripped the base of his cock with one hand and Clint’s hip with the other as Clint lowered himself. He didn’t take his time; he bore down until Bucky was fully buried inside him, the man under him swearing a blue streak in surprise as Clint dropped down.

“Jesus,” Bucky gasped out. “Fuck, Clint. You just…God, sweetheart.”

Bucky’s hands were gripping both of his hips tightly, and there was a definite burn from taking him so quickly. Clint paid it no mind and began to roll his hips, pulling up and dropping back down. Eyes closed and chest heaving, Bucky looked utterly wrecked, and Clint took a probably unhealthy satisfaction in doing that to him.

Bucky’s eyes opened again and held Clint’s intently as he moved. It was an incredible turn-on that Bucky had given up control to him so fully, taking it how Clint let him and making no move to push back. He felt as if he was gaining back some ground mentally, pulling himself out of the hole he had fallen into. Something in Bucky’s eyes shifted as if sensing Clint settling.

Bucky lifted his right hand and pressed it against Clint’s chest, right over his heart. Clint sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes for just a moment before covering Bucky’s hand with his left and copying Bucky by placing his own right hand over Bucky’s heart. When he did, he shifted forward slightly, and the new angle had Bucky’s cock sliding directly against Clint’s prostate.

He cried out, and Bucky murmured, “Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart. Just like that. Make it feel so good.”

Bucky’s free hand wrapped back around Clint’s cock, stroking him in time with the rise and fall of Clint’s body. Clint chanted his name in thanks, already close to the breaking point.

Suddenly, Bucky surged upwards so he could capture Clint’s lips, slipping his tongue between Clint’s lips then breathed out against them, “C’mon sweetheart. Want to see you come apart. Need to see it. You’re so beautiful. God, I’m so close, Clint.”

“Yeah, Buck. Me too, babe,” Clint murmured and sped up his movements just a bit. “Just need…just a little…”

Bucky twisted his wrist in a certain way, and Clint’s vision whited out as he came, crying out Bucky’s name and clamping down around Bucky’s cock.

“Jesus, fuck,” Bucky growled and then he was pulsing deep inside Clint, fucking up into his body as he lost control. When he came down, Bucky’s arms were wrapped tightly around him, pulling Clint down onto his chest and running his clean hand through his hair. That’s when Clint realized he whole body was shivering and a few tears had escaped from his eyes. Bucky was murmuring reassuring things against his hair that Clint could only partially make out.

After a few minutes, when Clint had regained himself a bit, Bucky maneuvered them so he could dispose of the condom and clean them up quickly. As soon as he was done, he pulled Clint back against his chest.

“You were amazing. Absolutely perfect,” Bucky said. “Can’t believe I ever lived without this, without you. God, Clint.”

He continued even as Clint drifted to sleep.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rolling my eyes so hard at these boys not being able to share their feelings.  
> Also, I posted a few pictures of the inspiration for [Bucky's Bloomberg cover over on my Tumblr](http://awrites.tumblr.com/post/159411350072/the-pictures-that-inspired-buckys-magazine-cover). Follow me while you're there if you wanna.  
> As always, I live on comments, kudos, and squeals.


End file.
